


Doll...?

by goobzoop



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Aaron!Alcoholic, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Asdfghjkl, BAU Cases about Murder Mentioned, Cannon Character Death Mentioned, Dubious Consent, Fantasy, Fluff and Angst, Hurt, I have nooo idea, Implied Drug Use, M/M, Morgan/Reid if you squint really hard, Reality Bending, Sad Ending, Suicide Attempt, Weird Plot Shit, but also not really, case fic chapter, vauge ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:07:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 38,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24110311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goobzoop/pseuds/goobzoop
Summary: Hotch is a fucking drunk / ???
Relationships: Aaron Hotchner/Doll, Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid
Comments: 164
Kudos: 122





	1. Cherry Maple Box

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So idk what to say other than this story is so weird idfk.

__

_"So when you find yourself locked onto an unpleasant train of thought, heading for the places in your past where the screaming is unbearable, remember there's always madness. Madness is the emergency exit.” -Alan Moore_

### 

“Just one more, okay? Just… just one.” Aaron said, and leaned in toward his friend with a sigh. “I just, I can’t go home yet.”

It was entirely too late, or early, or some sort of time that would have meaning to someone who didn’t just get off of a jet coming from another time zone. It was 3:45 am, but to Aaron and Dave it felt like being trapped in limbo. The faint smell of death still lingered on Aaron’s suit coat, or at least that’s what he thought. He hadn’t turned in his paperwork or even changed his clothes before he slid his car up into an empty parking space at O'Douls. Dave was sitting across from him in the booth and sipping languidly at a whiskey. The bulb overhead gave off the faintest of buzzing, and only a fraction of the amount of light that it probably ought to. 

Aaron was finishing up his sixth beer, begging Dave for the seventh, and already flirting with the eighth in his head. 

“C’mon Dave, don’t be such a buzzkill tonight. What’s the harm, anyway?” he said, and ran his finger along a wet spot on the table. “It’s not going to kill me.”

“Whatever, Aaron. It’s your life. Look, I’m just trying to keep you from digging your own grave, here. Half a dozen beers won’t kill you, but the morbidity of it all just might. Don’t you want to talk about it? I mean, hell, it was a rough one, even for me. You can’t keep that sort of thing bottled up.”

Aaron shrugged his shoulders and took a sip from his empty bottle, not entirely sure why he attempted that in the first place. He wanted to talk about it, really, he did, but his lips were sealed shut with glue that would tear the skin clean off if he tried to open his mouth. It just wasn’t happening. 

“I don’t know, Dave. Really, I don’t.” Aaron flagged down a waitress and ordered another. “I’ll talk about it, one day. When I’m ready. But not before that. And definitely not tonight.”

Dave was already taking another sip of his whiskey, resigning himself to another post-case night of dragging his best friend into the backseat of a cab. The faint bar-sounds in the background took over and two sat in the stiff silence of clinking glasses, wood on wood scraping on the floor, and some unidentifiable sports broadcast humming out in the background. 

Dave was staring as Aaron polished off his beer, with another in tow, and Aaron tried to ignore it. He’d had enough of Dave’s not so subtle judgment. He wondered why he even brought Dave along to these little outings anymore anyway when all he was met with was indignation. He could hate himself all on his own, thank you very much. He hated the way that he had a few too many to drink and stumbled home to an empty apartment. He hated the way that his legs felt like rubber and his head felt like a half filled swimming pool. He hated the fact that he already knew what was littering the floor because nothing would have changed in the week he was away. Not a single fucking thing. 

Dave ushered Aaron out of the bar after an hour, and honestly, wasn’t there supposed to be last call in a town like this? Or was it already bleeding into the morning? The sun was poking out from behind the treetops outside, casting a hazy orange glow on the still-dewey streets. They’d flown in in the dark of night and emerged from the pub in the soft light. Aaron almost thought it was spiritual, in a way. But he was pissed, and his thoughts weren’t making very much sense. He touched his hands to his head and shoulders and chest muttering something about the virgin Mary, and Dave didn’t even bother to profile that mess of a display. 

They were twenty minutes from Aaron’s apartment, and a half hour from Dave’s house, but it took over an hour for Dave to get Aaron up and into his bed. Dave had set about the incredibly hopeless task of escorting the drunken slob home and when Dave hauled him inside, Aaron’s hollow voice announced loudly that he was home, but no-one answered. 

The apartment was small and ill-lit. In the corner stood the one and only lamp. The overhead lights had burnt out several weeks prior. There was a black leather couch backed up against a wall, still stiff and squeaky, never having been broken in. There was dust living several centimeters high on its surface. The kitchen was just as desolate, if not more so, and had not seen human activity in so long, it was beginning to wonder whether or not it was stationed on some abandoned and far-off planet that even the aliens couldn’t reach. There was one lone bag of coffee beans sitting on the counter, unopened. 

Everything leading up into the bedroom was cast in shadows from the lamp in the living room. Dave had to be careful not to trip over strewn about clothes and empty pizza boxes on his way to the bed. He wasn’t well versed on the garbage labyrinth that was the apartment floor. Aaron, however, was well aware of each piece of trash on that floor. He just didn’t have it in him to want to do anything about it. 

Though maybe it would be nice, he drunkenly mused, if it were brighter and clean, and didn’t smell faintly like wet mold, because what kind of functional person lives like that? But at the end of the day he was the only person having to deal with it, and he didn’t care much for his own comfort anymore. It was growing darker on the way to the bedroom, and there wasn’t even a light in there at all, so Dave tripped blindly over god knows what as he tossed Aaron down onto his unmade bed. 

Aaron was exhausted, and so was Dave, but Dave had the wherewithal to haul ass out of that dingy box and get himself back home. Aaron was left to his own devices, and he didn’t, not even once, drink a single glass of water. Come morning, his head would surely protest that brilliant decision. 

And in the morning when Aaron finally woke up, the blinds were letting in slivers of sun and ruining the depressing ambiance that was trying so hard to take hold of the room. He was still completely exhausted. His brain pounded against his too-small-feeling skull, and he clenched and unclenched his fingers because they felt stiff and creaky, throbbing in a way that was only alleviated by cracking the joints. 

The living room was blaring an infomercial at an alarming volume, advertising some bullshit workout program in a sickeningly fake voice. _TOTAL GYM PACKAGE. GET A NEW BODY IN JUST 5 WEEKS. SAY HELLO TO THE NEW YOU!_ Aaron groaned. He must have turned it on at some point last night after Dave ditched him. It wasn’t doing his headache any favors. He clicked it off and couldn’t decide whether the sudden silence was any improvement. It seemed to encapsulate the entire room in an eerie bubble of nothing. He turned the television back on and set the volume to something tolerable. 

There weren’t any texts, voicemails, or emails left on his cellphone, and Aaron sneered at the lack of the world’s need for him. He’d probably have a few days, maybe even a week, off after the case that they’d just been put through, and maybe he really would have needed the time off, if time off was something he enjoyed. As it went, Aaron didn’t know what to do with himself, not anymore. The job was stressful, demanding, and gruesome. Home was isolated, stodgy, and empty. So very, very, empty. Pick your poison. 

“Uh, Hi.” He croaked out, and gripped the phone far too tightly. “…Hello? Are you there?”

The line crackled on the other end, and Aaron heard some shuffling around before the other voice came through clear and steady. “ _Aaron...? What do you want?_ ” 

“I, uh, I just wanted to talk. See how you’re doing. Jack. How is Jack doing?”

“ _Jack’s okay, Aaron. You really don’t have to call so much. If something’s wrong, I’d let you know. Otherwise… I wish you’d just let us be._ ” Hayley said, accompanied by a sigh. 

Aaron sank down onto the couch, getting dust smeared on his pants, and ran his hand down his unshaved face. “Hale… that’s not fair. I need to know. I need something. Give me something…”

“ _I’ve given you plenty of chances. You just haven’t taken advantage of any of them. Really, you never cease to amaze me the amount of times you’re able to let down your son. I’m not giving him anymore false hope. Just stay away, alright?_ ”

Aaron scoffed, but the line went dead with a menacing click. With a flick of the wrist, he sent the cell flying, and it skidded on the hardwood floor, ending up somewhere under a bookshelf. Aaron tried to pull himself up from the couch, but he couldn’t muster up the effort, and sank back with a sense of apathy that would shock even a zombie, and went lights out for the second time that day. 

He woke up much later, this time in the late evening, and the sweet sound of birds chirping that he didn’t even know was there was sorely lacking this time around. The pounding in his head subsided, but it was replaced by the stupid feeling of being over-tired. Just when he thought that his free time couldn’t be any more fucked up, he went and fucked it up. Now he’d be up until 5am at the very least. Turning into a nocturnal beast was apparently the next thing he was able to cross off his list. After that, maybe a little bit of ouija board action just to make sure all planes of existence were affected by his bullshit. 

He slumped down at his computer desk and had to boot up his PC after plugging it back into the wall, because apparently drunk-him thought that was a good idea, y’know, messing with all of sober-Aaron’s unsaved files. 

A little red “1” pinged in Aaron’s inbox and he clicked it immediately.

“Ah, Fuck.” He groaned, slinking his head down to his shoulders. “What the hell is this?”

The confirmation email was short and sweet. Too short and sweet, really. Just a few sentences affirming that his package was ready for shipment and would arrive within a week to ten days. No link, no company name, no tracking ID. Great. A surprise, then. Christmas was coming early this year, Aaron thought, a creepy and potentially disastrous Christmas.

 _Whatever,_ he grumbled, and deleted the email. 

. . .

He passed the day away going through old case files, what a shocker, and laying around staring into space. Old episodes of _Dawson’s Creek_ played on loop in the background. It wasn’t much, but it’s what he had. By the third day of this routine he was thoroughly itching for something else. His legs were twitching, muscles aching, mind racing around like a bird trapped in a cage. 

And that bird kept pecking at the idea that something was bound to show up in a few days' time, though he had no earthly idea what. He tried to go through his internet history, but that proved fruitless. He tried going through his credit card purchases, but nothing was amiss on there. Still, he had that one little deleted email, and it sent his brain into a spiral of ideas that were starting to get out of hand. He had dark thoughts at the best of times, and when he drank, well, they got even wilder. He was hoping to God that what he’d bought had just been a cappuccino maker or a foosball table or maybe even a new pair of sneakers. But really, when you’re black out drunk, do you really go searching up footwear?

. . .

**Beep** JJ: Hey, Hotch. Can you come into the office? We may have a case.

 _Fuck_ , yes.

. . . 

“It’s pretty bad.” JJ said finally, setting down the manilla folder on the desk. “It’s… not going to be pretty.”

Aaron was looking over the photographs, and the world felt thin and spacey. It certainly was not going to be pretty. It never was, though. That’s the nature of the job. “At least we have enough to go on here.” He said decisively. He knew they would take the case. He tossed the folder down too, and, on impulse, shoved one of the stocky photographs of one of the victims in his pocket. _Don’t be too distraught_ , he thought, _This happens everyday._

JJ’s voice quivered slightly as she eyed him. She shook her head, but she was agreeing. “Yeah. It looks like there’s a pretty good lead if we follow the trucker angle. Everything seems to point to it so far, but we certainly can’t rule out the possibility of something else.”

Neither of them had voiced it out loud. The number of victims in this case was astounding, and the table was littered in death. Aaron could see it in the darkness of JJ’s eyes that he didn’t need to say a word. Words didn’t have much impact on something as vile as this. They simply sunk down in the ugly, disgusting muck, and were swallowed whole by it. “It’ll be okay.” Aaron found himself saying anyway. “There won’t be any more victims if we can help it.”

JJ turned away. Her fingers were pressed firmly on the doorknob, no doubt trying to escape the hot, buzzing room. “Let’s hope.”

It was going to be a long few days.

. . . 

When he was finally sobered up post-case, Aaron stood outside of his apartment. The sun was spilling in through the open door. _The open door. _It wasn't open in a way that demanded attention, no, it was soft and gentle and begged the impression that perhaps it was just brushed open by a slight breeze.__

____

It was alarming, yes, especially to a FBI agent with a propensity for danger, but Aaron merely sighed. He sighed as if something like this was just an expected casualty of his life. Okay, so then there’s been a break in. Or, okay, so now there’s a gang of homeless cats living in the kitchen.

____

But, no. It went more like this: Okay, so there’s that mysterious package sitting in the middle of the living room floor and not a single other thing out of place.

____

Where was the UPS sticker, the FedEx slip? Aaron didn’t ask these questions; he knew there wasn’t going to be one. Why on earth would there be something so normal in the fucked up horror story that was his life?

____

He placed his things on the ground, eyeing the package that was screaming at him from the floor. It took up presence in the room. It sat there almost as if it were showing off, goading him, leering at him, asking, ‘ _Why don’t you go ahead and pry me open, baby, hm?_ ’.

____

Aaron looked away. He didn’t like the feeling very much. It didn’t sit right. He was scared. No, not _scared,_ really, he was just… well, he was off-put. By a box. 

____

A long, slender box, by the looks of it made in cherry maple, which was a curious choice for a delivery, and it spanned nearly seven feet. Which, really, was probably why Aaron was feeling like the fluids in his brain were bubbling; it was because it looked eerily similar to a coffin.

____

The last thing Aaron wanted to do was pry open a coffin.

____

But, then he did. And it couldn’t be a coffin, after all, because you don’t put something that isn’t dead into a coffin.

____

Aaron didn’t know what you usually put a life-sized doll into either, but there it was, lying like a brick in a cherry maple box.

____


	2. Bendy Little Fingers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the previous chater Aaron came home from his case to find a long, slender box sitting on the floor of his living room.

_“Now this is the point. You fancy me mad. Madmen know nothing. But you should have seen me. You should have seen how wisely I proceeded...”_

_-Poe, E.A._

### 

He’d never seen anything so delicate or serene in all his life, and he thought for the second time that day that he should look away, avert his eyes, and never look back. 

But at the same time he never wanted to look away. _Never._ It was beautiful. Fine-grained, subtle, tender, gentle, exquisite, delightful, pastel; beautiful. It was— she was— he was—? Striking. 

Something moved deep in his gut, a continental shift, like Pangea splitting up; something deep and permanent and once-in-a-lifetime. 

Then he smiled. 

Reaching out, his fingers almost brushed the surface of the doll, but they didn’t, not quite. They stalled mere millimeters before they touched down. Could he touch it?

He wanted to, my god, he wanted to. He wondered what that milky white skin felt like under his fingertips; would he leave a mark behind? Would his rough, calloused fingers crumble the fragile thing underneath them? 

Or would he just feel the softness of it, the cloudy, ethereal, sunbeam of a touch that surely would accompany such beautiful skin? Would his fingers slide over it with ease? Would they trail down its slender neck and catch along the jutting collar bone?

He didn’t even let himself think about the hair. Dear lord, that hair. Auburn and golden, with an entire forest of hues that accompanied it. The slight curl at the tips, the shining splendor of each lock, the way it fell back behind its ears and spilled against the cherry maple. It looked like an angel. 

Maybe it was. 

What color eyes were hiding under those lids? A piercing blue, a warm inviting brown? Perhaps they'd shine like emeralds. But he couldn’t pry them open. 

Instead, he busied himself taking in the rest of the doll, from the top of its head to the bottom of its soles. There wasn’t a single flaw. Not one scuf, mar, or blemish. Not one little thing, not at all, that set it apart from complete and utter brilliance.

The man; he knew now that it was a man because of the tell-tale bulge coming from its slight cotton briefs, didn’t move, didn’t blink, didn’t breathe. The doll, really. 

If it wasn’t alive then surely he could touch it. 

Warm. 

It was warm. Was it alive after all? Was there hot red blood flowing through its veins? 

Aaron traced his finger down the doll’s cheek, neck, and landed in the middle of it’s chest where he drew a soft circle with the pad of his finger. The skin was so smooth and lifelike. It felt like rose petals, or the way your hand sinks into the sand when a wave crashes over top of it. Aaron felt like he might sink right into the doll, but he didn’t. He pressed down with his entire palm feeling the doll’s fascinating warmth. He loved it. 

He traced along his stomach, the taut muscles leading down his abdomen, to it’s lean legs, covered in hair. The hair was so realistic. It didn’t feel fake at all. 

Its feet were big, flat footed, and thin just like the rest of him. Altogether, he was one gorgeous work of art; Aaron didn’t know he had it in him to want something so beautiful, let alone seek it out and order it himself. He hardly knew where someone would get something like this. 

Not that he didn’t want it now that he had it. 

He could hardly take his eyes off of it. In fact, he hadn’t, from the moment he opened the box, until his phone started buzzing on the counter, pried his eyes up from the doll. 

Wasting even a second seemed to be an insult to its beauty. 

He had to force himself away from the thing, it was more difficult than it looked, and he reached his cell before the caller gave up. 

“Hotchner.”

“Aaron. Hey. Just checking in. Everything alright? Cab get you home okay?”

“Oh, Dave. Yeah. Everything is just fine.” Aaron said, looking back at the box. “Very fine. I have to go, actually, let’s talk some other time.” The line clicked dead and Aaron shuffled back over to the doll.

“Hello, beautiful…” he whispered. 

It didn’t answer. He ran his thumb along the cheekbone that stood boldly out, and sighed.

He grabbed both of the shoulders and hauled the doll upright, but it was so much heavier than it looked, and it slumped back into the box with a thud. Aaron tried a different approach the next time by pushing it up from its back and using his body weight to support it. He climbed into the box behind it and let the doll rest against him like a headboard.

He hadn’t felt anything pressed that close up against him in ages. The doll's soft skin was incredibly deceiving. It felt just like a naked man laid against him. It was amazing and terrifying all at once. 

He hooked his arms under its arm pits and lugged the thing out and onto the futon where he sat it down awkwardly. Its head lulled to the side, and it refused to be supported by its own structure, instead falling victim to gravity and slumping over inch by inch.

It was covered in dust. A thing like that doesn’t sit in dust. It made Aaron’s head spin to think of this— his— angelic doll covered in the creation of his own deplorable self loathing. He grabbed a spray bottle and a rag from the closet he hadn’t visited in months and wiped down the couch, and then brought back a second rag soaked in warm water instead of chemicals and wiped down all the dusty parts of the doll. 

Then he vacuumed under the couch and around it, and all the empty spaces of the floor for good measure. The box he hauled down into the basement of the apartment complex where he had a small storage unit that he used to put his bicycle in. 

The doll was waiting patiently for him when he got back. He put it back upright and stood in front of it staring. His place didn’t feel so empty anymore. Even if the thing wasn’t living, it still took up a certain air in the room, begging to be included. 

It was nearing dinner time and Aaron still hadn't taken in any food or water, yet he didn’t notice. The doll was far more interesting than his rumbling stomach. 

He sat next to it on the futon and covered its hand with his own. He laughed softly, feeling as if he were courting it, and wasn’t that a silly thing to do? He could go ahead and stick his dick in any hole that doll had, and it wouldn’t matter. Hell, he could fuck it’s eye hole if the marble came out. Maybe he would. 

No, he wouldn’t, though. Even holding its hand felt like an invasion. It felt like he was 16 again and unsure whether or not his girlfriend actually liked him back or she was too shy to tell him to stop. 

The doll couldn’t tell him to stop. 

He brushed back a lock of its hair behind its ear and leaned in close to its flawless face. It smelled like an old book. Inviting and comforting, and pleading for his eyes to read it. 

Or taste it. He licked it on the neck, just a small lick, because he while he had enough self restriant not to fuck the thing, he couldn’t resist this, and it tasted salty. How much effort was put into this doll? How much had he spent? 

He licked it again, up the neck and stopping at its jaw. The taste was really very wonderful, like he was with a real person who sweat and gave off pheromones. 

For a moment Aaron leaned still against it, his arms draped around its shoulders in a desperate embrace. The skin was warm and the hair smelled like coconuts. God, what a wonderful feeling. Aaron never wanted to separate from it. 

He groaned into the softness of it’s neck. The doll was so tall and lanky, all limbs and edges, and Aaron wanted to trace all of them. He ran his hands down its arms, and along each fingertip, as if he could memorize each one. The soft light of the street lamps outside spilled in and caught along the edges of the doll, coating it in dark yellow shadows that only made it all the more alluring. It looked otherworldly in its hazy glow. Aaron yawned as he traced those too. 

It was nearly midnight and Aaron still hadn’t had anything to eat or drink. All he could think of was getting the doll into his bedroom to sleep. The empty pizza boxes and dirty clothes that he so elegantly catalogued needed to be picked up from the floor. He spent the next hour stuffing the trash bin full of garbage and his hamper full of suits and sweatpants. Then he sweeped the empty floor and was finally able to haul the doll up and into the next room. 

He placed it down on the side of the bed that wasn’t his and slid in next to it, pulling it close to him. A warmness bloomed inside his chest like an unfurling flower and he felt happier than he had since he still had a family and solid purpose in life. The doll was his. It was warm and sweet smelling and so very there. He sighed, smiled, and fell asleep to wonderful dreams of beautiful things.

. . . 

Waking up to hot, sticky breath damp on his neck wasn’t something that Aaron was used to in recent years. When he woke up and rubbed his hand against it, he grimaced at the moisture that smeared. How strange!

Was he _leaking_? Did he finally spring a leak, and now he was sinking down under the ocean that was his own despair? First the stern would flood, then the bow would tip, and finally the entire ship would capsize and he’d sink?

It wasn’t that, though, because the moisture was steady and rhythmic against him. When he turned over his lips perked up and his eyes softened. Right, the doll. What a beautiful, angelic doll. But… was it…?

Was it _breathing_? 

Adrenaline. It coursed through his veins in a split second and all traces of sleep were washed away. The doll was breathing! Its chest was fluttering with small movements, up, down, up, down. Just the tiniest of breaths, but they were there. 

“Doll?” He shook it. “Doll?!”

The doll didn’t move. The breathing didn’t increase. There wasn’t a gasp, or a murmur, or much of anything really. It just kept on with its slight rhythmic breaths. Aaron leaned down and brought his ear up close to the doll's mouth like it was a conch shell and he was trying to hear the ocean. But the ocean didn’t speak to him; all he heard was a barely audible wheeze. 

He stuffed a few pillows behind its back and sat it upright, trying to position it in a way that might spring it to life like pinocchio becoming a real boy, but its head didn’t stay up, and its shoulders didn’t stay squared back. The doll slumped over into Aaron and pressed its dead weight into him. 

“Can you… can you hear me?” He whispered to it, or maybe to himself, as he poked its chin. “Are you alive, Doll? What are you…? The doll didn’t move. “Say something!” 

He was met with silence. There wasn’t going to be any talking from the strange thing in his bed. There weren't going to be smiles, or conversations, or anything that a real boy would do. 

Not bothering to move the weight of the doll off of him, which was so utterly heavy and realistic, he sank back into his mind and let his thoughts run on autopilot. He fell back asleep to the smell of coconuts and the faint ticking of the dolls hair under his nose each time he took a breath. That was enough.

. . . 

Another two days passed with Aaron staying close to the doll, eyes plastered on its fluctuating chest. Without anything else to do besides watching bland television programming and going for the occasional run, he spent a lot of time staring at and touching the doll. It was arguably the most interesting thing to happen in his life since the divorce.

With Monday fast approaching, Aaron was sure that there would be another case calling him in, and just as he suspected, his phone rang right at the crack of dawn. 

There was a murder in California. Wasn’t there always? The team flew in and investigated the death of a woman who was found to be connected to a string of murders in which the bodies were washed up on the shore of a local private beach. It took the team nearly five days to track down the killer and bring him in, but they got him. 

After the case was closed and they arrived at the landing strip back in DC, Rossi shot Aaron a tired look, probably expecting Aaron to beg him out for a nightcap, and he wouldn’t have been wrong to think that on any other given night, but on this particular night Aaron’s head was filled not with thoughts of whiskey and dulled minds, but rather soft skin and tiny breaths. 

He couldn’t wait to get home. _Screw_ the bar. Aaron didn’t even give a glance towards Rossi who watched him stride over to his SUV and drive off. 

When he got home, Aaron found it in the same place he left it, tucked into his bed. He toed off his shoes, shed his suit, and climbed in beside it. For the first time in a long time, he ended his work week sober with a smile on his face.

. . . 

In the morning the doll was pressed up against him. It was as if it were made to fit him. He hugged it close, pressed his lips to the back of its neck, slow and lingering like a promise.

He pulled the doll over to lay on its back and admired it. It had such a beautiful face, with high cheekbones and pretty pink lips. Its hair fell down and framed its face even more wonderfully, like angelic amber halo of waves. He smiled fondly and traced his fingers along each curve and dip. He reached down and grabbed at its hand, holding it in his own and interlacing their fingers together. Birds were singing outside, light filtered in through the window, and the television hummed faintly in the room over. There was no case. Life felt perfect in that moment. 

Then the fingers twitched. Right against his own, the doll’s slender fingers twitched. 

Aaron’s eyes grew wide and for the second time he stared at the doll in abject horror, or maybe wonder, and blinked a few times before trying to see if it would happen again. He massaged them in his own hands, bending them, and moving them, trying to make them flexible and possibly even sentient. Not that that was very logical, per se, but logic wasn’t very important anymore. Logic was tossed out the window right about the same time that the cherry maple box turned up behind an open, unlocked door. 

They twitched again, and again, and finally bent a little all on their own. 

Something here was _happening_ , something weird, and Aaron didn’t want to question it. Aaron didn’t want to take a step back and think, hey, isn’t this wrong? Isn’t this something that only happens in Sci-fi movies or B-list horror? Shouldn’t I be a little bit worried that there might be a poltergeist living inside of this doll? 

So he didn’t. For the first time in his highly regimented life, he decided to roll with the punches. No overthinking, no micromanaging, no profiling. Just here and now and the doll’s bendy little fingers. 

When he held the doll’s hand and squeezed again, it squeezed back. Holy _shit._ Aaron nearly fainted. You couldn’t mistake that for anything else. Maybe there was a set of batteries in the thing somewhere? He’d already looked over the entire thing, barring below the boxers, and didn’t see any openings for batteries. How was it moving all on it’s own?

He squeezed again. It squeezed back. He squeezed. It squeezed. 

Aaron was vibrating. It was getting stronger each time like a muscle. He held both of the dolls hands in his own and just kept going back and forth with a fascinated ‘o’ formed on his lips.The air in the room was tangible. There was promise lingering in the air. There was something that wasn’t supposed to be there. 

The chin tilted up. Soft and smooth, it rose. Fingers gripped. Thumbs slid. Chest heaved. It was magic. Certifiable, genuine magic. That, or he was completely and utterly mad. Aaron didn’t care which. 

Toes flexed. Another, and hips rolled. Shoulers rose, jaw clenched. It was waking up. That is to say, if it were ever asleep. A rumble came from it’s chest, a soft crackling rumble from deep inside. 

Aaron got close, staring it down like he was in a contest that he couldn’t afford to lose. Those beautiful, full lashes fluttered open and then someone was looking back. Doll. 

“Oh— oh, my god.” He whispered, reverent. “Hello…?”

The eyes flickered to meet him, hazel and shining. The doll’s voice came out so soft and silky, barely above a whisper, more akin to a passing breeze than a greeting. “Hello.” 

“I— oh, God.” He stammered. He couldn’t get a hold of himself. This was insane. This couldn’t be happening, but it was! The doll was alive. It was a miracle!

“What- uh, what’s your name?”

“My name?” It said, softly, lips padding together and apart in perfect little movements. “What is my name?” 

“Yes, what is it?” He was so eager. 

“I don’t know. I don’t have a name.” 

“No name?” He frowned. The doll frowned back. “That’s okay. That’s just fine.”

“It’s okay.” The doll repeated. 

“I’ll call you Doll.” Aaron said. 

“My name is Doll.” Doll replied.


	3. Read This Book

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the previous chapter the beautiful thing in the box slowly came alive and Aaron was in awe. It breathed, moved, and talked. Aaron thought it was magnificent.

__

_"Once you meet someone, you never really forget them." — Hayao Miyazaki, Spirited Away_

### 

Doll didn’t move much except for in small, clumsy movements. Aaron lugged Doll up to a sitting position, and carried him out of the bed to the futon. Doll seemed to enjoy the change of scenery. It looked around, neck creaking, eyes sparking, taking in everything in Aaron’s apartment. It brought its hand up to its head, feeling its own jaw and Aaron beamed at it. The Doll smiled back. 

“Do you know what that is?” 

The doll looked at him wide wide eyes. “What is it?” 

“That’s your face. You're touching your chin.”

“Chin…” Doll whispered. “What’s a chin?”

“It’s well, it’s _that_ right there.” Aaron’s eyes scanned the room, lading on his bookshelf. He grabbed a book from it and sat back down next to Doll. “Here. I have this, it’s called a ‘book’. It has lots of… information. About everything.”

“Everything? Ever?”

“Well, many things. Not everything. There are lots of books with lots of different information.” Aaron replied. “This one is a medical book. Here, look.” He pointed to a depiction of the human body. “That’s all the parts of the human body. The male human body. This one…” he flipped the page and pointed to another picture. “Is a female human body. See how it’s different?” 

“Am I a female human?” Doll asked, touching his eyes. 

Aaron laughed. “No, Doll, You’re… you’re male. Look right here—” he pointed to an area on the male figure. “That’s called—”

“Adam’s apple.” The doll said. Aaron shot his eyes over to the doll, stunned silent. 

“Wait, you can _read?_ ”

“I can read.” It simply said. “I read that.” He pointed to _Adam’s Apple_ on the page. 

“Okay... okay, wow. I didn’t expect that.” Aaron’s perception of the Doll was all over the place. Nothing about it made any sense. “Well, here.” He moved Doll’s hand to its throat. “Swallow. You’ll feel it.” 

The doll closed its eyes and made a dramatic gulping sound akin to a cartoon. “Did I do it?” 

“Well, did you feel it? The lump?”

“Yes.” 

“That’s your Adam's apple. Just like the picture. A woman doesn't have one of those.”

“What’s a woman?” The doll asked. 

“Oh. A woman and a female are the same thing, almost. A woman is a female human. Other things can be female, but other things can’t be a woman. If that makes any sense to you.” He rubbed his finger against Doll’s hand. “Does it?”

“No.” 

“A cat can be female, but a cat can’t be a woman.” 

“What’s a cat?”

“Oh.” Aaron shut his eyes tight. “Right. Okay.”

“Are you mad?” Doll asked, frowning. Please don’t be mad, Doll.” 

Aaron laughed, and squeezed Doll’s hand. “Did you just call _me_ Doll?”

“Are you not Doll too?” it asked. 

“No. You’re Doll. My name is Aaron.” 

“Oh!” It smiled. “Aaron. That sounds nice. I like Aaron.” 

“Why don’t you read this book?” Aaron asked, setting the book down in its lap. “You can learn some things. It will answer some of your questions better than I can.

“Okay, Aaron.” It said. 

It opened up to page one and began reading.

. . . 

“Did you know that the forearms are made up of two different parts, the flexor and the dorsolateral compartments? They have seperate groups of muscles that group the anterior and posterior portions of the wrist and fingers.”

“I didn’t. That’s very interesting.”

The doll was halfway through the textbook and it’d only been a few hours since it started reading. It had some amazing concentration. By nightfall, finished. Aaron had no right to, but he felt quite a bit of pride that the doll was so talented. He didn’t contribute to that in any way, he didn’t own the thing— why should he feel pride? I didn’t matter. He did. 

“Doll…” he said, eying up the thing as it was sitting on the couch just how he left it, all legs and lanky limbs. 

“Yes, Aaron?” 

“Are you… hungry? Do you eat?”

I don’t know. What does hungry feel like?” it replied. Aaron didn’t quite know how to answer that. Hunger was just there. It’s an instinct. 

“It’s like… a rumbling in your stomach.” he went with. “Like your belly is trying to tell you something.”

“Oh. my ventriculus feels fine.”

“Your what…?” Aaron was confused. The Doll was learning so much. 

“My stomach. That’s the Latin identifier.” 

“How about I make you some food and we see if you can eat?”

“Ok, Aaron.” It smiled. 

Aaron pulled out a pot and felt the Doll’s eyes on his back and smiled. It was nice having someone around to fill the empty space in his mind. He grabbed another book from his bookshelf and dropped it in Doll’s lap. 

He made spaghetti. By the time that the smell of tomato sauce was wafting into the living room, Doll already finished the book and Aaron gave him another. This time it was _The Selfish Gene by Dawkins_. He stirred the pot of spaghetti and wondered when was the last time he made a home cooked meal? He didn’t want to admit the answer might actually be never. Thank god for non-perishables. 

The doll ended up taking a few wobbly steps to the kitchen before it got too weak and slid to the floor, telling Aaron it was sorry but it’s legs felt like jelly. Well, it actually said _cytoplasm,_ but he could read context clues. He picked up Doll and set him down at the kitchen table. 

“Is this… blood?”

Aaron laughed. “What? No!” 

“It looks like blood.” it scrunched up its nose. 

“We’re going to have to get you a lot more books, not just the medical ones.” Aaron replied, shaking his head. “That’s called tomato sauce. Tomatoes are red. They’re a vegetable. Well, maybe a fruit. It doesn’t matter; they taste good. Try it.”

Doll reached in and grabbed a handful of spaghetti before Aaron had the chance to stop it. “Wait—!” his eyes went wide. 

“Wha—?” Doll stopped immediately, frozen solid. “It’s blood, isn't it?” 

“No! It’s not— no. It’s just, you’re using your hand. You don’t eat with your hands. You use a fork.” 

“Are you sure? The hand is a free movement vestigible. The muscles and the joints are arranged in such a way that allows for gripping, picking, pinching, as well as a variety of other movements. It’s a very efficient tool. Precision handling makes fine movements possible, which the fork…” his eyes were trained on the fork Aaron was waving at him. “Lacks.”  


“I’m quite sure. You can use your… precision pinching to hold the fork. Here.” 

“It’s precision handling. Pinching is a type of movement.” He took the fork anyway. It was heavy and shiny and pointy. 

“Put it in the spaghetti and spin it in circles.” 

He did that, and got a big glob of spaghetti on it. Aaron smiled and he brought it up to his mouth, eyes trained on it. 

“Eat.” Aaron said. 

Doll nodded its head. It put the spaghetti in its mouth, its eyes went wide and it smiled. Tomato sauce dripped from the corner of its lips. Aaron had to tell it to chew, but it did.

“Mmmmmmh” Doll closed its eyes and moaned while chewing. It was bliss. “I really like spaghetti, Aaron.” It said, mouth full of noodles. 

“Good.” Aaron smiled. He scarfed down his bowl and watched Doll slowly finish its own.

. . . 

In the morning, Aaron woke up to the doll huddled up against him, looking like an angel. It still moved him everytime he looked at it. Its beauty was ethereal. Its beauty was otherworldly. How could the doll be _his_? It seemed near impossible.

He scooted out of bed and crept out of the apartment quietly. He didn't want to wake Doll up. He triple checked the locks on the doll when he left, lest Doll to wander off and get hurt. Going to the library wouldn’t take that long, but the thing was so curious, and who knew what it would be capable of today?

He pulled as many books as the library would allow him. That was 20 books. He got big ones, too, because the Dool soaked them up like a sponge. He figured Doll should know about basic things, so he got _The Complete Guide to Anything and Everything About Growing Up_. The Doll might be in the body of a fully grown adult man, but it sure didn’t act like one. He also picked up a few on mathematics, Nature, and American history. On a whim, he picked a few out on Psychology and Law, because why the hell not? Lastly, he grabbed _East of Eden_ , wondering whether Doll could appreciate literature, and if so, he wanted it to start with something _good_.  


He came through the apartment door with two tote bags full of books, and found Doll on the floor by the bed with a frown on its face. 

“Doll!” Aaron rushed to its side. It physically _hurt_ him to see his beautiful doll in distress. “Oh, God, Doll. I’m so sorry. Let me help you up!” 

“I fell, Aaron.” It squeaked. “You weren’t in bed and I tried to get up but I fell.”

“Are you hurt? Where does it hurt?” He was flustered, still crouched beside him, and shifting him to sit up. “I’ll make it better. I’m so sorry. I should’ve been there.”

“I don’t like when you’re gone, Aaron. I didn't know where you were.” Fuck, was it going to cry? Its eyes looked shiny. Aaron couldn’t handle it if it cried. _Don’t cry!_

“I was out, I’m sorry. I went to the library. I got more books for you.”

“For me?” it asked. It was smiling so bright. Its entire face lit up. “More books?” 

“Would you like to see them? Do you want to try to walk to the living room?” Aaron asked. 

“I can try.” It said, and it did. Aaron pulled it up to its feet and it stood on its long, wobbly legs. Aaron only had to catch it twice, but it made it all the way to the couch and sat down. It looked completely pleased with itself. 

“I can walk.” It said dreamily. “Just like you.” 

“Almost.” Aaron replied. “You'll get there in no time.”

Doll nodded and held out its hand for a book which Aaron handed to him. _American History From Settlement to Modern Times: A Comprehensive Look._ “Wow.” It said. “Heavy.” 

“Shouldn’t take you too long, I don’t think. You’ll probably have it done by the end of the day.” Aaron winked. Doll blushed and looked abashed, turning away, but not smiling.

. . . 

Doll finished the book by afternoon and then it read _American Criminal Justice Systems: Liberty, Equality, and Due Process._ which sparked a two hour long debate on whether or not plea bargaining was a legitimate way of settling criminal cases. Doll absolutely crushed Aaron. Aaron liked it.

They discussed just about everything they could think of before Aaron’s stomach was rumbling again and he made another pot of spaghetti. Doll was just as enthusiastic as last time.

In the morning, Aaron got a call from JJ. Another case. It had to happen eventually. 

Doll was upset, but Aaron promised he would be back soon. He left Doll a few jugs of water by the bed and a whole slew of energy bars because he wasn’t sure if it would even leave the bed, and there was no way that it could make spaghetti all by itself. This way, it could sustain itself. He locked the door on his way out. 

The case lasted five days. Suicide by cop. Aaron walked through the door with death on his jacket but instead of dousing his insides with alcohol, he doused his jacket in Tide Ultra and tossed it in the washing machine. He had to have a clear head for Doll.

Doll was sitting cross legged at the kitchen table next to a neat stack of books. It smiled at Aaron when he came in. So bright and happy. Aaron melted. His angel. His Doll. So beautiful. 

“Hi, Doll.” He said. He ran his fingers through its hair and leaned in for a hug. 

“Hi, Aaron.” It replied. “I missed you. Look; I read all the books!”

“Wow… all of them? All 20?" He asked, incredulous. “You must have been bored. I’m sorry, I know I was gone for a long time.”

“No, I wasn’t bored.” He paused. “Well, not until I read out of things to read. Can you get me more books soon?” 

“Of course I can. I can get some tonight.” Aaon smiled. 

“No!” Its face dropped, smile gone. “No, don’t leave again. Not tonight, at least. Please.”

Aaron nodded. “Okay. Maybe tomorrow. How about some dinner? It’s nearly six.”

“Okay, Aaron. Dinner sounds good.” 

“Are you hungry? Were the energy bars enough?” Aaron asked. Doll starving to death without him was a very real concern. It was a difficult few days. 

“Energy bars?” It asked. “—oh, right. Yeah, I guess I ate one.”

“One?!” He gasped. “Doll, you need to eat! You need to eat much more than _one_ in five days. You should eat at least 15 in that amount of time. Three a day, minimum. God, you must be starving. I’m making spaghetti. You’re going to eat a whole pot.” 

It smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!


	4. Aaron's Tee Shirt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the previous chapter Aaron gave Doll a numch of books to read and it went through them at a crazy fast rate. He ws learning so, so much. Aaron had to leave it at home, too, while he went on a case and missed it dearly. It missed him too.

__

__

_“Know, first, who you are, and then adorn yourself accordingly.” -Epictetus_

### 

Doll could walk all by itself. Aaron bought it a pair of sneakers because it couldn’t fit into any of his. And a pair of slippers. And loafers. And boots. Plus a few sweaters, tees, pants, and joggers. Okay, Aaron bought Doll a whole lot of stuff. But it looked so adorable in it all, how could he not? 

When Doll was all dressed up in its new purple sweater, corduroy pants, and brown boots, Aaron decided he would take it to the library to see what books it would pick out for itself. 

“Me? Really? To the _library?_ ” It whispered, as if it were too special to say out loud. 

Aaron nodded. He couldn’t keep the smile off his face. He took Doll’s hand and led it to his SUV. 

“Wow! Look at this. We’re going so fast!” Doll laughed. 

“50 miles an hour.” Aaron replied with his eyes on the road. 

“Did you know that the ‘new car smell’ is actually made up of over 50 volatile organic compounds? The most common are toluene, ethylbenzene and styrene. They can lead to headaches, sensory irritations and minor allergic reactions because the concentrations are often above the recommended amount.” 

“Wow, I had no idea” Aaron eyed his air freshener. “We’re almost there. Are you excited?”

“Yes, very much.” 

It was like watching a kid in a candy store. Doll was going from shelf to shelf oooh-ing and aaah-ing at everything. It would pull a book from the shelf, scan through the cover, tip it over in its hands, feel the weight, touch the binding, then put it back on the shelf and onto the next. 

There were a few books that it read right there in the isle. Aaron didn’t mind. He had nothing better to do. He sat in a lounge chair and watched. Doll started a pile on the table near Aaron and it rose steadily until Aaron had to stop it, citing that it was too many to take out. 

But, Doll being the clever little Doll it is, said that it could take out 40 books if they each got 20. Touché. 

Aaron didn’t think it looked impressed with 40, but Doll nodded when it was done and that was that. 

A lady named Nora greeted them at the counter and checked them out. Aaron scanned his library card and Nora said that they were going to need _his_ too. 

“What’s your name, Sweetie? I’ll sign you up. Only takes a minute.”

“Oh. My name!” Doll’s voice rose an octave. “D— I’m uh. My name is…” he looked over at Aaron who wasn’t any help at all. “Spencer.” 

“Spencer? Strong name. Biblical.”

“More like Herbert Spencer. The scientist. He coined the term ‘survival of the fittest’.” 

“Hmm. Learn somethin’ everyday.” She smiled. 

Aaron raised his eyebrows. _Spencer?_

Doll—no— _Spencer_ blushed. 

“Last name?”

“Umm.. uh. Read.”

Aaron laughed, his hand coming to rest on Spencer's lower back. “R-e-i-d. Right, Spence, because read would be ridiculous? Almost sounds fake.” 

“Mmhm. R-e-i-d.” Spencer agreed. 

“Okay, Mr. Reid. I have you all set and ready to go then!” Nora’s big plump cheeks jiggled when she smiled. She handed Spencer the receipt and pushed the stacks of books toward it. 

“Were going to need a forklift for all these.” Aaron winked. He and Spencer made two trips back to the car. Spencer seemed to be thrilled about its first trip out. It couldn’t stop grinning the entire way back.

. . . 

“Will you come sit with me?” Doll asked. It was cuddled up on the couch and reading a book titled _Psychology and You_. Its hair was wild and charming, much like its entire demeanor, and how could Aaron say no to that?

“Of course, Doll.” 

Doll looked up from his book with a crooked mouth. “Can you call me Spencer now? I like it better.”

“Oh.” He didn’t even realize what he said. “Sorry. Of course I can, Spencer.” He pulled the blanket up and sat up close next to it. “I think it’s a great name. Very fitting for you.” 

Spencer bit its lip and blushed. “Thanks, Aaron.”

Aaron nodded. He kicked his feet up on the ottoman and rested them against Spencer’s. His socks were black with a gold stripe and Spencer had one green and one blue sock. He liked that. 

“Where’d you get those socks?” 

“Hm? I don’t know.” Spencer said. It didn’t seem interested. Aaron didn’t particularly care either.

Spencer draped its arm around Aaron’s shoulders and  
Aaron leaned into it. It had the book propped up in its lap and it flicked through the pages faster than Aaron could even read the first paragraph. He was so proud of it. 

He fell asleep there in Spencer’s embrace and woke up to Spencer pulling him to his feet and waking him to the bedroom. He flopped down on the bed and Spencer scooted in behind him before he fell asleep for the second time and didn’t wake up again until morning.

. . . 

“Can you go to the grocery store? We need some food.” Spencer was sitting on the floor in the living room, his books sprawled across the white and gray area rug.

“Hm? Yeah. I can do that, I guess. Tired of spaghetti?”

“No.” Spencer blushed. “I read this book. Well, a _cookbook_ at the library. I thought I could cook something out of it, you know?”

“I think that’s a great idea.” Aaron wouldn’t mind having a home cooked meal. In fact, he was craving one dearly. 

“Okay! Then I’ll need Virgin Olive Oil, Rosemary, Fennel, Garlic, Black Pepper, Salted Butter, Sea Salt—“

“Uhh.”

“What?” Spencer asked. 

“That’s a little above my pay grade.” Aaron said sheepishly. “How about… I take you grocery shopping and you just get what you need?”

“Wait, really? I can go food shopping too? Not just the library?” 

“Well, yes, I think you can handle it. Don’t you?” 

“Yes!” It squeaked. “...yes.” It bit it’s lip and blushed. It was so adorable trying to contain its excitement. Aaron wanted to whisk it out the door that very second if it meant seeing that cheesy grin on its face for even a second longer. 

Which he could totally do. So they went grocery shopping and Spencer had a lot of fun looking at all the different fruits and vegetables, herbs, and spices. It could list off the Latin name for every single thing they saw. Aaron was impressed to the point where it almost scared him. Spencer was _brilliant._

He let Spencer put anything it wanted in the cart. He just followed it around and occasionally tossed something in. Plus he got more spaghetti sauce. He liked spaghetti.

Not only was Spencer brilliant, though, it was by far the most attractive thing in the entire building. It was funny how beautiful it was. It looked like a model. Like a granite statue. Like a porcelain doll. Nearly everyone gave it the once over. Hell, plenty gave it a twice-over.. 

Too bad for them, though. Spencer was Aaron’s doll. Spencer was Aaron’s, period. His golden brown eyes. His shiny brown hair. His long legs. His. Aaron fell in love with it the moment he pried open that cherry maple box. Oh. He fell in love. 

Aaron loved Spencer. 

Aaron looked up from the cart handle where he was staring. Spencer was comparing two labels on two different boxes of dried peppers. It looked over at Aaron and smiled slowly, like an unfurling flower. Aaron's heart fluttered in his chest. 

Yep, Aaron was in love.

. . . 

Spencer served him a plate of Mushroom Asiago Chicken, decorated with thyme and a creamy looking sauce. His mouth was _watering_. Spencer was learning so much… it was hands down incredible.

“Thanks, Spence. I can’t believe you made all this. You really didn’t have to go through all the trouble. It looks delicious.” Aaron smiled softly. His eyes were sparkling. Spencer smiled back. 

“I hope it tastes as good as it looks.” Spencer laughed. It laughed with teeth. With its belly. It laughed so sincerely. Aaron wanted to eat that laugh for dinner, too. 

Spencer was sitting across from him at the kitchen table, it’d taken off its clothes and changed into a pair of gray joggers and a navy tee shirt that was far too big for it. It read FBI across the chest. Aaron’s tee shirt. It was _swimming_ in it. It was gorgeous. Aaron bit his lip and blushed. It looked so… normal. So domestic. It looked like it could be Aaron’s boyfriend. Aaron’s boyfriend who wore his clothes and cooked him dinner and cuddled him at night. Spencer looked up and smiled back.

“You’re amazing. Spencer. I mean it.” Aaron’s said. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“I don’t know what I'd do without you either.” He replied.

. . . 

The next day Aaron wanted to ask Spencer something, but he didn’t know how it’d react. Quite truthfully, he didn’t know if Spencer was even ready, but he wanted to take the chance. It could end in disaster. A disaster that he wouldn’t even be able to begin to explain, but it could also turn into something really special.

“Spencer?” 

“Yeah, Aaron?” It had its nose in a book like always. It was reading _Philosophy in the Modern Day_. It was going through them like wildfire. 

“I wanted to ask you something, but you don’t have to say yes...”

Spencer flicked the corner of its page into a neat little triangle and closed its book. “Hm?”

“There’s a dinner this weekend for Thanksgiving. Someone front the team, where I work, hosts it every year. Would you… like to come with me?”

“To the Thanksgiving party? Whose house is it at this year?” It asked. 

Aaron had to think about it. Last year was Penelope... that one was particularly unforgettable. Before that, Rossi... “Derek? I believe.” 

“Oh.” Spencer said. “Okay! I’ll go.” 

Are you sure, Spence? There’s going to be a lot of new people, and talking.”

“I can do it!” It beamed. “I just finished _The Psychology of Human Connection_. I’m all set. And I really want to try ‘turkey’. It’s one of the top five largest flying birds in the world.” 

“There will be a lot of great food. You’ll love it.” Aaron smiled. A warmness was growing in his chest. _Happiness_. Kind of a big deal, huh? Introducing his... Doll? Friend? _Boy_ friend? Whatever it was... to his friends. His team; his family. Recipe for disaster? Maybe. Potential for something great? Could be. 

Either way, it’d be an adventure. 

Besides, Spencer could pass for a real man now, couldn’t it? It came such a long way. 

Spencer looked up from its book again, its hair falling in its face, and it combed it back with long fingers. “Hm?” It asked. 

“Nothing.” Aaron turned red.

It seemed pretty real to him.


	5. Doll Meets Team

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the previous chapter Aaron took Doll out to the library where it decided its name was Spencer, they went food shopping together, Spencer cooked Aaron dinner, and Spencer cuddled up to Aaron on the couch while wearing one of his big FBI tee shirts. Oh, and Aaron invited it to spend Thanksgiving with the team. It accecpted.

_“All your life you’re told you’re unique. An individual. That no one on the planet is just like you. It’s humanity’s anthem.”  
― Blake Crouch, Dark Matter  
_

### 

Thanksgiving was on Thursday and Spencer stood on the front porch of Derek’s house next to Aaron. Spencer was dressed spiffy in a light blue button up and a black vest. It looked as angelic as ever, and Aaron felt like an old fart next to it. Aaron wore the same as always: black suit and tie. 

Jittery would be a mild way to describe the way that Aaron was feeling. Maybe he didn’t think the whole ‘introducing Spencer to the team thing’ through— What if Spencer started saying things that didn’t make sense? It could say anything! Lord have mercy, it was too late to turn back now. 

Derek opened the door with a grin. His eyes were glued to Spencer. It was going to be a long night.

“Well, well, well, who have we got here, Hotch? Look at you, Pretty Boy, how’d you end up here with this old guy?” He laughed, and ushered them inside. 

“He drove me.” Spencer said. 

Derek barked out a laugh and took their coats. “Okay, okay, fine. I’m just teasing.” He put them in the closet and came back into the hall. “Anyway, I’m Derek. It’s really great to meet you. I didn’t know Hotch here had, uh, someone to bring along.” 

“He does. I’m Spencer.” Spencer smiled sweetly. Derek held out his hand and Spencer hesitated but Aaron nodded, so it shook it. 

“Okay, Spencer, well, everyone’s in the living room if you want to head back. Hotch, I’m glad you could make it.” He grinned. 

Aaron rolled his eyes as he guided Spencer into the next room. “You’ll like everybody.” He whispered. “They’re good people.”

“Hey, everyone.” Aaron announced as they walked in the room. 

“Hotch!” Penelope gasped. Dramatic, as always. “What’s going on? Guys? What is—”

Aaron laughed, ducking his head. There was no way they didn’t see his face go red. “I have someone I’d like you all to meet. This is Spencer.” 

“Hi.” It waved. 

“Oh my go—” Penelope nearly screamed. 

“Hey, I’m J.J.” JJ came up and shook Spencer’s hand. This is my husband, Will, and my son Henry is around here… somewhere.” She laughed. Spencer smiled back at her. Aaron could tell Spencer liked her immediately. He didn’t blame it. JJ was warm and friendly as a rule. 

“I think I saw him hiding around the corner, actually.” It laughed.

“Right! I think they’re in a game of hide and seek. You’re supposed to be looking for him, Will!” She nudged him. 

“—And I’m Emily.” A black haired woman came up and shook his hand tightly. “Prentiss. That is a _nice_ suit, by the way, you have quite some taste. How’d Hotch get so lucky with you?” 

“I, uh. I.” Spencer stuttered. 

“Oh, lay off, Prentiss.” Aaron laughed, and she winked. “Here, this is Penelope, Spence.” 

“I can’t believe my own eyes.” Penelope murmured. 

“You shouldn’t. 45% of people have some form of visual impairment.”

Penelope giggled. “Hotch! Where were you hiding him?! Spencer, I’m Penny. You can also call me the Goddess of all Things Wonderful. But not babygirl, that one’s reserved for my Chocolate God over there.” She eyed Derek over in the kitchen. “You, my new friend, need to tell me _everything_. Hotch never talk to me! You are my gorgeous new link into that grumpy man over there.” 

“I, uhm, _everything_ about him? Doesn’t that seem a little impossible? If I said everything it would take me approximately… 22 and a half days, considering the average person speaks at an average rate of 42 words per minute.”

“Oh my god!” She squealed. “You're too funny! Hotch, I love him!”

“I don't think it was kidding— I mean, he. I don’t think _he_ was kidding.” Aaron coughed. “He’s very smart.” 

Penny’s eyes went wide. “Wait, you did all that math just then? Woooow. Boy genius, you’re like a superhero!” 

Spencer blushed and looked back at Aaron for guidance. 

“Babygirl! Stop harassing the new kid!” Derek shouted from over in the kitchen.

“I’m _not!_ ” She whined. “Okay, fine, but Spencer, we still have a lot to talk about, okay?” 

“Mhm.” he shook his head. When he turned around Aaron was blushing and he followed his gaze over to an older man with salt and pepper hair and a devilish smile. 

“So, Aaron. _This_ is the reason I haven't been seeing you after cases, then, isn’t it?” 

Aaron cleared his throat. His face was red and he pulled Spencer close by the hip. “I guess you could say that, Dave.” 

“Well, are you going to introduce me?” He piqued an eyebrow. 

“Right. This is Spencer Reid. Spencer, this is David Rossi.”

“Call me Dave.” he said. They shook hands and Dave couldn’t stop grinning at the two of them. Spencer just looked at him wide eyed. 

“Dave, please.” Aaron begged. “Not now. I can’t, uh, it’s—” he looked over at Spencer briefly. “New, okay? No questions.” 

He was still smirking. “Fine. but don’t expect to get off that easy. We’re going to have a conversation about this.” 

“Yes, yes.” Aaron blushed. He pushed Spencer over into the kitchen and made small talk with Derek and Emily. 

Spencer turned out to be a little chatterbox, and Aaron let himself relax a little bit because it— _he_ — seemed completely content to ramble on about this or that: the range of the closest space probe to earth, the thickness of mongolian tea turtle’s shell, the origin of the name Peter, quite literally anything and everything, without getting into the strange details of their… relationship? His… birth? The weird stuff, basically, which he wasn’t sure if Spencer thought was weird to begin with. He certainly read enough to know how people were born and raised, and certainly he must have some understanding that you don’t just gain consciousness one day at his age.

Everyone liked him, and how could they not? He was beautiful, interesting, sweet— he was perfect. He was able to keep up with the conversation when it switched to work, and they even ended up picking _his_ brain about human psychology. Aaron’s lips were in a permanent smile all evening. His cheeks quite literally hurt from smiling so much. 

“Hotch, man, I don’t know why you've been hiding Pretty Boy here, he’s great.” Derek laughed. “I wouldn't even mind having him on the team. Where’d you go to school, Pretty Boy? You wanna join the FBI? I can get you in.” He wiggled his eyebrows, grinning.

“Oh, I—” 

“Don’t bother him, Morgan.” Aaron waved his hand. “Spence, I’m sorry, you can ignore him. He’s ridiculous.” 

Spencer nudged his shoulder against Aaron’s and hummed. “Yeah, he certainly looks it.” He stuck his tongue out at Derek, and Derek gasped, laughing.

. . . 

By the end of the meal everyone was slouched over in their chairs with half lidded eyes and full stomachs, trying not to fall asleep. The food was absolutely delicious. As it turned out, Derek was a phenomenal chef. The turkey was brazed to perfection, the mashed potatoes were heavenly, the stuffing was just the right amount of crispy and chewy. There was homemade cranberry sauce, macaroni with a crumbly cheese layer on top, and mounds and mounds of roasted vegetables, and gourds, and all sorts of plants. Spencer ate more types of food in that one afternoon than he had since, well, ever.

Spencer was sitting next to Aaron on the couch, finally wound down and feeling quiet, just listening to the conversations going on in the room. Aaron was doing the same. The two of them ended up wiggled right up next to each other and Aaron suddenly felt like they were the only two present. Spencer’s warm thigh pressed up against his, his shoulder resting against his own; it was everything. His heart felt fuller than his stomach. He wanted to burst. Affection pushed out from every pore, screaming, _I love you!_

So he turned to Spencer with a hesitant smile and told him just that in a small little whisper only meant for his ears. Spencer’s face melted and his head tipped to the side. A smile erupted from his lips and he said the only thing that Aaron wanted to hear back. _He loved him too._

Then Spencer rested his head on his shoulder and they went back to their silence, this time feeling a little bit different. 

Henry sat down in front of them with a Bop-it and twisted it and pulled it and flicked it time after time after time. JJ eventually scooped him up and announced that it was his bedtime, so she and her family said their goodbyes. She leaned down to hug Spencer who smiled into it, and kissed Aaron on the cheek before heading out with Henry on her hip and Will holding her hand. 

The rest of them had a round of beers outside by the fire pit. It was red hot and sending sparks into the dark fall air. The light cast bright yellows and oranges over Spencer’s face. His smile was blinding. He was so gorgeous. He was an angel. Every time he laughed, every time he smiled. Aaron refused to peel his eyes away. 

Spencer was dwindling down again, the conversation between the group coming to a natural close, and everyone said their mutual goodbyes. They all sang Spencer’s praise and Aaron found that his beautiful little Angel was quick to form inside jokes. He ended up with nearly everyone’s phone number with a promise to call. 

Spencer left with a content smile on his face.

So did Aaron.

. . . 

Back at Home Spencer was eyeing the tub of macaroni that Derek made him bring home.

“What, hungry again?” He grinned. “Didn’t you have enough dinner?” 

“Hey! That was five hours ago at this point.” Spencer giggled, failing to sound serious. “The human digestive system processes food at a rate—“ 

“Oh, God. You know what? Let me just put this in the microwave.” 

“That’s what I thought.” Spencer grinned. He hopped up onto the kitchen counter with Aaron standing up against his knees, and they just smiled at each other until the macaroni was done. 

Aaron put it down on a cozy next to Spencer and got them each a fork, and they ate it right out of the tupperware. 

Spencer brought a bite up to his mouth and chewed on it happily. 

“So, did you have fun tonight? Did you like everyone? You looked like you had fun.” Aaron asked, watching Spencer savor the noodles with his eyes closed. 

He opened them and smiled. “Aaron, that was the most fun I’ve had. I really like your friends.” He took another bite and started talking with his mouth full, making Aaron chuckle. “And oh my God— the food. Aaron, the food was so good. I _love_ Thanksgiving. I want to eat turkey everyday for the rest of my life.” 

“Trust me, you’ll be saying the same thing on Christmas. It’s Rossi’s turn, and if you thought Morgan was a good cook, then Rossi is going to blow your mind. _Italian Christmas_.” 

Spencer rolled his eyes back in ecstasy and said that he couldn’t wait. Honestly, Aaron couldn’t either. Holidays were actually fun when you had someone by your side. 

Spencer giggled and fell into a fit of hysterics as Aaron tried to feed him macaroni, did a horrible job of aiming at his mouth, and dropped noodles all over his pants. He nearly choked on his own forkful when Aaron failed for the third time, and tears welled up from laughing so hard. 

Aaron hadn’t felt so happy in… Well, it didn’t matter. He was happy. So incredibly happy. 

“How about I clean up and we go to bed?” Aaron said. Spencer nodded and hopped down from the counter, catching Aaron in a hug before whispering a little thank you in his ear for bringing him along, and then heading to the bedroom. 

Aaron didn’t mind cleaning up by himself. He had Spencer waiting for him in their bed, ready to cuddle up together. What could be better than that?


	6. I Have Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the previous chapter Spencer met the team at the Thanksgiving party that Aaron invited him to and everyone loved him. Penelope fauned over him, Derek called him Pretty Boy, and JJ made him smile all shy and sweet. When they got home they ate leftovers and cuddled and everything was perfect.

_“No mistake about it. Ice is cold; roses are red; I'm in love. And this love is about to carry me off somewhere. The current's too overpowering; I don't have any choice. It may very well be a special place, some place I've never seen before."  
—Murakami, H. Sputnik Sweetheart_

### 

The next few weeks flew by. Aaron had a few cases that brought him out of state but he was never gone long. Spencer was always waiting for him at home, too, which gave him something to look forward to. They called each other up every night and talked until they passed out with the lines open. Aaron’s heart never beat harder than it did on those nights. 

Spencer always missed him so much when he was gone. He said so in hugs when he came back. The first day back was always Aaron’s favorite; he could barely peel Spencer off of him. (Not that he wanted to) 

Aaron came back with a kindle one day. Spencer took one look at it and shook his head. It ended up collecting dust on the shelf. Aaron tried to keep him stocked up with books but he was going through them at an unfathomable speed. They could come back with 40 books and he’d be done by nightfall. His eyes spilled over the pages, page after page after page, and just like that he’d know every single word in the whole damn thing. 

He had to teach him how to drive. 

It was difficult at first; Spencer was all legs. He jerked his feet, stomped down too hard, and made turns that were way too sharp, but he eventually got the hang of it. Then he could drive himself to the library when Aaron wasn’t around, and Aaron didn’t have to feel guilty about him being stuck at home and bored. 

. . . 

Aaron was sitting at the table one afternoon while Spencer was out, and he dropped his fork on the plate, clattering on the ceramic, his mouth hanging open. Spencer walked in the door grinning. 

“Oh my god.” Aaron said, eyeing him up. 

“Is that a good ‘oh my God’?” Spencer blushed, scratching his neck.

“What, did you join a boy band?” Aaron laughed. “You look… wow. That looks amazing.” 

Spencer shoved his hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his feet, and ducking his head. Aaron’s heart was struggling to keep from bursting. “Thanks, Aaron.” He bit his lip and looked up at him. “I was hoping you’d like it.”

“I’d like anything, as long as it’s you.” He smirked, his eyes crinkling. He really meant that. There wasn’t a single thing that could stop him from loving Spencer. “Come on, Angel, I made lunch. Sit down.”

. . . 

Spencer sat on the couch snuggled up on Aaron’s side, his fingers dancing along Aaron’s gray nightshirt, much like the one he was wearing himself. Spencer wore Aaron’s shirts to bed more nights than not. 

Aaron wore a smile to bed on those nights, with big dark eyes complementing it; on those nights he hugged him tighter, laced their fingers together with more urgency. 

Figures went to and fro on the television screen. Aaron only caught outlines and colors. He barely noticed a word that was said since Spencer popped the disc in. His thigh was too close. His hands too grabby. His hair is too scratchy. Aaron couldn’t pry his attention away, and no matter how excited Spencer was about The Hobbit, it was no rival to the way that Aaron’s heart hammered in his chest every time Spencer shifted beside him. 

Spencer’s eyes were glued to the screen, except for the moments that they weren’t. His eyes would dart away whenever Aaron brought his own up to meet them; They’d flicker and sway, sometimes coming back to rest on Aaron’s face while he was still looking at him and Spencer would turn a deep shade of red. Aaron squeezed his hand and smiled. 

The credits started rolling on screen as Spencer shuffled from their entanglement to sit up a bit, straight against Aaron’s side. Adventurous tunes roared softly from the tv. The dark screen cast shadows on Spencer’s sleepy face. His eyes, amber and shining, looked up to meet Aaron’s and they held his gaze steadily. 

“Hey.” Spencer whispered. With a calm hand he slid up Aaron’s forearm, leaving goosebumps behind. 

Aaron’s head rested against the couch and he whispered back. “Hey.”

“Tell me what you’re thinking?” 

For a split second Aaron’s face hardened, but he grasped Spencer’s hand tightly instead and chose honesty. “I’m thinking that I’m the luckiest man in the world. I’m thinking that I don’t know what I’d do without you. That I don’t know how I even got by without you before. That I love you.”

Spencer blushed, he could see it even in the low light. “Awh. I love you too, Aaron. Do you want to know what I’m thinking?” 

“Of course.” Aaron would pry the thoughts right out of his head if he could. 

Spencer shifted again, his fingers never quite settling in one place. “I’m thinking… that I really want to kiss you.” 

He was looking up at Aaron for validation. For confirmation of a ‘yes’. For a ‘go ahead.’ For a ‘please.’ That much Aaron could read plain as day. 

Aaron left him hanging with his silent plea lingering in the air. Spencer crept forward, so close that their noses touched, and each other's breath was hot on the other's mouth. 

“Aaron…” Spencer breathed. “Aaron, please?”

Aaron’s brain short circuited nearly five seconds prior. Spencer was so close he could almost taste him. Spencer was so close and asking for his permission. 

He didn’t give it, but Spencer pressed his lips forward anyway, and they melted tenderly against his. His senses were invaded by everything _Spencer_. The smell of coconut shampoo, the faint taste coffee lingering on his lips, the heat radiating off of his thin frame.

The press of his fingertips against his chest. 

He stayed pressed up against Aaron like he was going to stay forever. 

“I… Spencer….” Aaron’s breath hitched in his throat. That kiss was everything he had ever wanted rolled up into one pretty little package, and it spread through him like wildfire, igniting every dark and hidden part of him. “I…”

“Shh, it’s okay.” He whispered. A smile played on his lips just enough for Aaron to notice it. “I needed that. I needed it so much. The way I need air.” 

“Do you need air?” Aaron asked; he had never tested that particular fact. 

Spencer giggled and buried his face against his chest again. “Of course, silly.” 

“Right. Of course.” Aaron laughed. “Can we… do that again?”

Spencer looked up, eyes dancing with something new. “God, yes.”

. . . 

Happy mornings were starting to become Aaron’s new normal. When he wasn’t away on cases, that was. He was getting used to Spencer’s curls invading his face (shorter now— another added benefit of that haircut), and the way he always managed to twirl all their limbs together like a twizzler. Plus Spencer always woke up with the same delighted expression, as if being alive and next to him was the most precious experience on earth. He couldn’t fathom that Spencer would feel that way about _him_ , he was just an old man that’s seen far too much violence for it to be considered healthy. He did, though. He looked up at him every morning from his usual spot with his head on Aaron’s chest, or in the crook of his arm and shoulder, and he’d just stare with a dopey little smile, looking at him like he’d hung the moon and all the stars. 

From there, they would slump out of bed, one sluggish step at a time, and make a beeline for the coffee maker. Spencer would read and Aaron would either scroll through his emails or laugh at the comic section of the newspaper (Except for Garfieldt— screw that grumpy asshole). It was quiet, peaceful, and stunningly domestic. 

On this particular morning, Aaron just hopped out of the shower and joined Spencer in the kitchen for a cup of coffee that was sitting on the counter waiting for him. Spencer was hunched over a stack of papers and scratching something out in a frenzy. It looked like he was trying to write at the same speed that he read: an interiley impossible feat. 

“Are you going to be able to read that back?” Aaron asked, nodding at the chicken scratch. 

Spencer grinned and rolled his eyes. Aaron asked him what it was, and Spencer told him that he was writing a journal article for The Scientific American— _The Scientific American!_ Aaron laughed at first. It elicited a frown, and that’s when his smile fell and he asked— 

“Wait, _really?_ How? When? —It doesn’t matter! That’s amazing! I’m so proud of you!” And Spencer just blushed, bashful, and mumbled something about writing to some researcher or something, but Aaron didn’t care because, wow! The Scientific American. His Spencer, his little Angel, getting his big brain out there on paper for the world to see. So he scooped him right up and out of his chair and twirled him around, peppering his cheeks with kisses until he was too dizzy to keep going, and Spencer complained that he had to get back to his work. 

Aaon went in for a case the next day and was pulled to Oklahoma on a close-quarters stabbing killer, and it was dreadful. When he got back Spencer greeted him and it made everything disappear. Spencer finished his paper the day before and they celebrated with wine and mediocre steak that Aaron tried his hardest on. 

Spencer brought up Derek at dinner. The look on his face said _sheepish_ and Aaron squeezed his hand and said that if Derek wanted to hang out with him and celebrate, then he should go and enjoy the friendship. He had nothing to worry about; Derek was a great guy. So that’s what Spencer did the following day. They didn’t go out anywhere, just hung out at Derek's apartment, and Aaron declined the invite because he thought that Spencer could use the practice of talking to people without him standing over his shoulder. And who knows, maybe they’d make friends? Having Spencer friendly with the people he was closest to, the people he more or less considered family, well, that wasn’t something he was opposed to, not at all. 

Spencer came home giddy. He kissed Aaron in the doorway and waved goodbye to Derek, and then he jumped in bed and cuddled up to him with his head resting on his chest and his arm draped around his waist. He babbled for a little bit about Derek’s dog Clooney (he licked Spencer’s face— ew. Aaron could have used some warning before he kissed that), and the pot roast that Derek made that tasted like mountains and log cabins, though Aaron wasn’t sure those were comparable tastes. He drifted off to sleep after a while, and Aaron stayed up stroking his hair and watching the rise and fall of his chest.


	7. Are You Drunk?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the previous chapter Spencer gets a haircut, kisses Aaron, writes an article for the Scientific American, and hang out with Derek.

_  
“When he first met her odd, detached parents he understood that Heather had grown up starved of love, and when you're starved of something you should receive in abundance, you never quite trust it.”  
― Liane Moriarty, Nine Perfect Strangers_

### 

Spencer didn’t bring up hanging with Derek again. He just did it. The first time Aaron realized Spencer was gone his chest got tight and fell to the floor with images swirling around in his mind of Spencer in the back of a white van, or lying on the concrete with his skull cracked open. Not out at a bar with a friend. With his collegue. He never left around the time Aaron got home from work. And, by the way, since when did Spencer even drink? 

“Are you _drunk?_ ” Aaron rushed to the door the second it opened, arms out, ready to catch his stumbling boyfriend, but Spencer’s arm was slung around Derek’s shoulders. Aaron’s lips tightened in a scowl. Last time he knew that disapproving look was when Shawn came stumbling home with bloodshot eyes and clumsy feet and his mother didn’t speak to him for a week. Was he becoming his- _no._

This was fine. This was perfectly fine. 

“Hey, Hotch. Woah--Pretty Boy, watch it!” Derek gripped Spencer’s hip and left arm with purpose. Spencer's ankles were buckling underneath him. “Don’t you dare crap out on me now, Genius.” 

“How much did he have to drink?” Aaron demanded. He didn't reach out to help. Derek had him. 

“Oh, man. I don’t know. A couple rounds of beers. A shot or two. It was a busy night. I cut myself off early, don’t worry. Wouldn’t dare hurting your Pretty Boy.” 

Aaron scoffed, wincing at it left his lips. His words tense, he said, “Just put him in the bedroom, then. He’s going to need the rest.”

“You got it, bossman.” Derek walked a stumbling Spencer down the hall and called out from the bedroom. “You wanna leave him like this? All dressed and everything?”

“I’ll take care of it.” Aaron said, full of feelings he’d rather not have. “Just, that’s it. Thank you, Morgan. Thanks for bringing him home.” 

“Anytime, Hotch. We had a great night. Next time, though, we're definitely gonna go easy on the alcohol. Pretty Boy is a bit of a lightweight.” he winked.

“Right.” he looked towards the front door. “Next time.”

“Okay, man. I’ll see you soon. Sorry about all the noise. Take care.” Derek said, coming close and gripping his hand while giving him a half hug. He smelled like cigarettes and sweat. 

_Spencer probably smelled like that too._

Aaron fell asleep next to Spencer with a frown.

. . . 

_My First Hangover_ was the title of a book Spencer never wanted to read. He sat slumped over in bed with his hands cradling his head. Despite how angry Aaron went to bed last night, he woke up and saw that serene face next to him and it all but disappeared.

Serene was so far from what Spencer looked like when he woke up, though, you couldn’t even hit it with a rock; eyebrows drawn so close they touched, eyes shut tight, and a groan that could wake the dead. 

So, as was his usual routine, Aaron brought out a handful of Advil, a few glasses of water, some gatorade, and a pair of warm pajamas. Spencer wouldn’t be going anywhere. 

By midday, Spencer was smiling again and laughing about how Derek could have warned him what happens the morning after. They went out again that Friday, but Spencer only came home tispy. That time he took Aaron’s face in his hands, smushing it all up and cooing at him like he was a cute little puppy dog. 

Aaron followed him around like that puppy the next day, too, watching him. Watching him write, watching him sit on the couch. Spencer just laughed. 

“Aaron, what’s going on?” He finally asked in bed that night. 

“Don’t take this the wrong way.” Aaron sucked in a breath. He fished for Spencer’s hand under the covers. “But what do you and Morgan even have to talk about?”

“What do you mean? A lot of things. He’s my best friend.” Spencer looked up at him with his brows knitted close. 

“Him?” Aaron said, lower, shakier. “Not me?” 

Spencer bit his lip. “You’re my boyfriend, though.” He leaned in and pecked Aaron on the lips. “I love you. It’s different.” 

“But you’re my best friend.” Aaron whispered so low it was barely there. “I just don’t understand what you talk about all the time. And I guess I feel like… you’re going to end up liking him more... “ 

“He’s not even gay. Wait, no-” Spencer sat up on his side, his elbow leaning against the pillow. “Aaron? I’m not- He’s not- I love you? That has nothing to do with him. I don’t like him like that. I’d never… I’d _never_ leave you, Aaron.” He breathed heavy, eyes fixed on Aaron. “I’m pretty sure I know what this is about… and I want you to know I’m not going anywhere. Hey-” He tilted up Aaron’s chin towards him. “Look at me. I’m not going anywhere. You hear me? I love you, Aaron. I love you so much.” 

Aaron blushed in his hand and nodded. “Sorry.” he nodded. “I love you too. I know you wouldn’t. I know that I… I just have issues.” 

“We all do.” Spencer half smiled, a look of muted sadness clouding his eyes. “It’s part of being human.” 

. . . 

Spencer hung out with Penelope, too, going over to her apartment for a Dr. Who marathon that lasted nearly three nights long and still wasn’t over. Aaaron was missing his boyfriend. He came home with a striped scarf that she knitted him.

On Tuesday, Aaron was almost out the door when the kitchen sink burst and soaked them both in the process. Spencer looked at a wrench almost trying to will it to do something. Aaron tried tightening this and that, but he was no expert. Water was pooling up on the floor, and the main water supply wouldn’t shut off. With soggy socks they padded into the bedroom, leaving a water trail behind, and grabbed extra clothes before fleeing the place. Aaron called up a plumber while he drove them both to Quantico. 

“You’re okay with coming into work with me?” Aaron looked over at Spencer, sitting soaked in the passenger seat. 

He laughed, wiping a few drops of water off his chin. “Of course. It’ll be fun. I can see what you do all day.” He looked out at the buildings passing by. “And I get to see everyone. I really like your team. Oh! And I need to ask Penny something.” 

“Ask her what?” 

“Eh, it’s Dr. Who related, you wouldn’t get it.” 

Aaron laughed. “Yeah, I guess not.” 

As soon as he walked in, Derek and Penny jumped him. Aaron had to pry him out of their grips in order to get him into the bathroom and out of his soaked PJs. After that, he spent most of the day wandering around in the bullpen, and Derek set up a desk for him behind his own so that he could sit and read. 

Emily pulled up a chair and had Spencer read over the file that she was working on. Something about ancient Greek text that the Unsub was scrawling all over the crime scenes. He picked out the meaning after reading a few pages earning a huge grin from her. 

Derek was next, rolling his chair over and asking about a map filled with pins. Spencer scanned it for a minute, his eyes darting back and forth from pin to pin, his hands itching at the seam of his trousers. “It looks like the unsub’s safety zone is Hyde Park…” He looked up at Derek. “Look, the killings are all happening in a specific pattern. Except for right… here.” He pressed his finger down on a little town. “He would never kill in the safety zone because that’s wher-” 

“That’s it! I didn’t see that!” Derek’s eyes lit up. “Pretty Boy, thank you!” Derek swiveled around, got up, and then stumbled back to grab the map. “JJ! C’mere, take a look at this.” 

Spencer smiled and went back to his 8th edition _Vold’s Theoretical Criminology._

With a frown, Aaron was staring out at Spencer when JJ came into his office. “Hotch.” She said, glancing down to the bullpen. “We have a case. Derek made some headway on the geographical profile. I called the local precinct. They want us down there ASAP.” 

Fingers heavy on his temples, he let out a sigh. “Right, okay. Wheels up in 30. Tell the team.” He rubbed at the bridge of his nose seeing Spencer looking up at the office. They made eye contact and Aaron’s heart fluttered. He made a motion for Spencer to come up. 

“Aaron? What’s up?” He peeked his head in the office. His vest was unbuttoned at the top. 

Aaron got up from his chair and walked over to his boyfriend. “We have a case.” He said, flat. They were close enough to touch. “Do you want to come? I could set up a hotel here for you to stay at.” 

Spencer’s face lit up like a match. “I’ll come!” He smiled wide, his hands fiddling in his pockets. “I want to come. I’ll come.” 

Aaron nodded, a little smile of his own forming, and he buttoned up Spencer's vest. “You look so handsome, Angel.” He cooed, his eyes on the ground, and his voice thick. 

Spencer giggled, not saying anything, and pulled him into a hug. 

Aaron pulled back. He took Spencer’s hand in his own and squeezed it tight. Wheels up in 20. You’ll get to ride in a jet. Excited?”

He grinned. “About a jet? Pfft. I’m in those all the time.”

. . . 

Noone batted an eye when Spencer started inserting himself into the conversation. He earned a fist bump from Emily and a big hug from Morgan, not to mention a very colorful degree of praise from a certain tech wizard whenever he spouted off obscure information. Aaron still ordered him to stay behind when things got heated; Spencer kept in the local PD while the rest of the team drove out to the Unsub’s house and took him down. They lost two along with the Unsub himself. Murder and suicide-by-cop. The scene was harrowing. If he could have, he would have saved Spencer from ever having to see something like that, even from behind a screen.

When he got back to the precinct, Spencer pulled him into a bone crushing hug and whispered sweet things in his ear. It should have been him whispering the sweet things. Aaron gathered himself up himself before he fainted. His head was dizzy and light. They were in a police station, for God’s sake. The look in Spencer's eye though, like the world had come to a halt, like it completely stopped spinning and hung there, stilled on its axis- Aaron couldn’t handle that look. 

On the jet ride home Spencer leaned his head against Aaron’s shoulder and fell asleep, dreaming about sweet things. Or, at least, that’s what Aaron hoped as he brushed the hair out of his eyes.

. . . 

The plumber had the pipes fixed like new when they got back. They crashed on the bed and dealt with the water damage in the morning. What was one more wet night for the floorboards after spending three completely waterlogged?

Spencer didn’t smile as he ran a towel over the damp cabinets. He didn't smile as he tucked into a warm plate of waffles, or when he cracked open _Calculus: Early Transcendentals_. Aaron didn’t push. He’d seen that look before. He’d seen it in the mirror a dozen times. Hell, hundreds. Instead, he took a seat next to him and wrapped his arm around his shoulders. He’d just be there. That would have to be enough.

After dinner, Aaron slipped in disc three of LOTR with the sun setting, and the open window letting in a chilly breeze. The air was starting to smell like winter. The two of them huddled under the comforter that they dragged out from the bedroom and stared as an army of Orcs marched towards Gondor. They roared on screen and Spencer, giddy and enthralled, gripped the blanket in both his hands. Aaron tipped his head onto Spencer’s shoulder and fell asleep before the battle even started. 

The digital clock blared 2:25 into the darkness as he jerked awake. Spencer was looking at him, his jaw set square. 

“What?” Aaron rubbed his eyes. They were sore. He slept on the couch. They were watching The Return of the King. Spencer nudged his shoulder. “Ow, hey.”

“We’ve got a case.” He said low. “JJ just called.” 

“Another case?” There was a silence in the room. The window had blown freezing air inside overnight. They should’ve closed it. 

“I know. It’s really soon, but it’s time sensitive. A kidnapping.”

“Oh.” Aaron’s heart tightened. Kidnapping was no good. He nodded his head and threw the blanket off them. Spencer yelped and scrambled back underneath. 

“How long? How long have they been missing?”

“JJ said 12 hours. The local PD had to hand it over at the 12 hour mark.” He said under the blanket. 

Aaron wrung his hands together, breathing heavily. “They should have called sooner.” He said under his breath. “I’m sorry, Spence. I’ve got to go. I love you.” He stood up from the couch, but not before pressing a kiss to Spencer’s cold lips. 

“I understand.” He said with a funny half-smile, like he was waiting for something. Aaron stood there looking back before making his way to the bedroom. 

“Let me just grab my go bag. I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

“Can you get mine too?” Spencer asked, looking back at him from the couch, kneeling on it.

“Your bag…? You don’t have a bag.” He said thickly, like sleep was trying to drag him back under. 

Spencer was staring at him as if he had two heads. “Yes, I do. It’s right by yours. It’s in the closet.” 

“You're not coming, why do you have a bag?” Aaron asked.

Silence. 

“I don't get it.” Spencer said.

Aaron rubbed at his forehead. The clock read 2:35. “I don’t have time for this, Spence.” He went into the closet. There was a second bag sitting right by his. With a frustrated huff he grabbed it a little too hard. 

Spencer followed him out the door and he didn’t stop him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In regards to Spencer's rant on being Aaron's bf not his friend, you can be bffs with your bf/gf/etc, obviously. Spencer is just thick


	8. I'm Coming Too

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the previous chapter Spencer started hanging out with Derek and Penny. The sink in their apartment broke so Aaron had to bring Spencer along on a case, letting him seeing things that Aaron wished he hadn't.
> 
> After, they were woken up at 2 in the morning by a call from JJ saying there had been a kidnapping. Aaron left with Spencer in tow because he wouldn't take no for an answer. That, and he already had a go-bag packed and ready. Since when did Spencer have a go-bag?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: I lied. This is now a case-fic. Welcome to Goobzoop’s first case-fic. There’s popcorn.

_“The world around me and my past seem far away and distorted, as if time and space were taffy being stretched and looped and twisted out of shape.”  
―Daniel Keyes, Flowers for Algernon_

### 

Spencer was too cheery for three in the morning and listening to a 911 call of sobbing parents. Across the jet Aaron eyed him wearily. He was sipping a coffee and leaning his head towards Derek’s earphones. 

He forced his eyes back to the folder in his lap. There was a child missing. 

When they touched down JJ introduced Spencer to the parents instead of having him wait in the hotel. She introduced him as Doctor.

Spencer wasn’t a Doctor.

Spencer wasn’t even an Agent. 

Spencer was boyfriend of the Unit Chief. 

Disapproving, he gave JJ the side eye, but she ignored it and turned back to the mother, speaking in hushed tones. 

_Since when did JJ lie?_

Aaron swallowed it down. There would be time in the future for those questions.

“Prentiss.” He said, turning around. “You and Morgan go to the school to see what you can find. It’s the last place she was seen.”

Prentiss nodded and Morgan followed after her. “Dave, you speak with the father. JJ will be speaking with the mother separately.” 

Spencer was knelt down in front of a little girl with pigtails and a blanket patterned with purple sheep. He booped her nose and she laughed, dragging her slipper across the floor back and forth. He pulled a silver coin from her ear. She giggled, and he asked her something, leading her into the living room when she nodded.

“Spencer? Where are you―” He called after him. 

“Hotch? Dave asked, still standing beside him. “Keep it professional will, you? The kid’s name is Reid in the field. Spencer in the office.” 

Hoch scoffed. Yeah, he’d like to have kept him in the office. 

Dave walked over and shook the hand of the man crying by the stairs. He leaned close, touching his shoulder and saying something comforting.

Spencer, or rather _Reid_ , appeared next to him, a hand on his shoulder. 

“Sp―” Aaron began. 

“I’m going to have a look in the victim’s bedroom.” He said briefly. He was down the hall before Aaron could get out another word. 

The mother bent down to scoop up the little girl in her arms, and, trying to hide the tears from her, whispered soothingly, “Shh, sweetie, it’s okay. Your sister just took a little trip. She’ll be back soon. These nice people are here to make sure she gets home okay.” 

Not quite convinced, the little girl nodded and wrapped her arms around her mother's neck. JJ’s face was soft as she led them to the kitchen table to sit and talk. 

Hotch stood there in the foyer for what felt like ages. Voices and sirens blared around him. He felt stuck. 

His cell chirped in his pocket. 

“Hotchner.” 

Morgan’s voice came through. “Hotch, we’ve spoken with the principal. There wasn't anything noteworthy here. The victim got on the bus as usual. I spoke to a few parents whose kids said they saw her on the bus, though. They said she got off at her stop. It had to have happened sometime between the stop and the house.” 

“Right. Good work, Morgan. Keep me updated if you find anything else.” 

Aaron walked over to JJ and pulled her aside. “The victim was taken at some point between the bus drop off location and here.” 

Her lips were tight and she nodded, glancing back at the mother. She was watching them with bated breath. 

“That would make it approximately 1:15 to 1:30pm.” Reid cut in; he was standing in the foyer, tall and confident. He knitted his long fingers together, looking somewhere near the ceiling, his eyes darting to things Aaron couldn’t see. He stilled and his eyebrows shot up. Aaron was blatantly watching him. 

“Garcia?” He flipped open his cell. “It’s Reid. I need the names of every delivery man aged 35 to 50 in the state of Arizona. Make it only employees hired within the last six months. Take out anyone who has an extensive record or has ever been married.” He was silent for a beat. “Absolutely” he laughed. “Yes, will do. Thanks, Girl Wonder.” 

“Hotch.” He said, narrowing his eyes. “Call Morgan. I think we’ve got something.”

“Morgan?” He asked. “Well, what is it?”

Reid’s cell rang and he was back on the phone, his lips moving a mile a minute. 

Aaron ran a hand through his hair. The clock above the fridge read 5:14. Time was running out. They were at the 15 hour mark. His eyes darted to Spencer. There was sure to be a statistic for that, but he didn't dare ask. 

“Morgan? Get back to the house.” Aaron barked, and hung up.

Reid pulled him by the arm towards the front door. “I talked to Garcia. We have an address. Get JJ. I’ll be in the van.” He looked at him before letting go and disappearing through the doorway.

. . . 

“The UnSub was a delivery driver for FedEx. He followed the victim home from school for a month before picking her up. There were seven others. All deceased.” Reid said, looking from face to face in the back of the SUV.

“Seven?” Morgan hissed, his lip flaring. Reid nodded. 

“It started seven months ago. Noone put together the dots.” 

JJ looked up from her phone. “What was the stressor?”

Aaron fidgeted in his seat. He’d never been so out of the loop. He could fade into the background and no one would notice. 

“Garcia said he was fired from his job a few weeks before the first killing. Then his fiancee left him. Seems like he’s been bottling his rage up and he finally snapped.” Reid said. 

Emily fiddled with the extra gun strapped to her calf. “That, and going from a high rise office to a delivery van left him feeling entirely powerless.”

“Tried to take it back from kids.” Morgan muttered, his trigger hand twitching on his thigh. “They were just _kids_.” 

Aaron focused back in, coming back to life. “Morgan and Rossi, when we get to the impoundment lot, you two take to the right. We’re looking for his work van, but he could have switched vehicles. The victim is most likely stashed in the cargo hull. Focus on the larger trucks.” 

“Got it.” He nodded. 

“Emily, you and I will take left.” She nodded swiftly. 

“And me?” Ried asked, eyes unwavering. 

“You?” Aaron squinted at him. “Stay in the van.”

Reid opened his mouth, about to speak, when the SUV engine shut off and daylight poured in. The air was dry and hot. It was a lazy Arizona winter. 

No one on the team would make eye contact with him. Aaron looked to Rossi who averted his gaze. What had he said? Profiling them wasn’t working. 

He shoved the idea out of his head. 

“Come on.” he motioned to Prentiss with a terse movement. 

The sun was beating down on them as they crawled through broken down cars and scrap metal piled high in organized chaos. A bird ca-cawed in the sky. 

“Prentiss.” He whispered, looking over his shoulder. “Anything?”

She was on his heels, crouched down, and scanning the lot. “Nothing.” Her firearm was pressed against her thigh with determination, her forearms taught and ready. 

They managed to cover one and a half square miles of the lot with no sign of the UnSub. 

The walkie talkie on Hotch’s shoulder crackled on. 

_buzzzt._

_Hotch. We’ve got some movement over on the east side near the fence. Up and to the right from the entrance about three square miles. Get over here quick. Do you copy? Over. Hey― Reid―!_

_I copy. What’s happening over there? Is Reid with you? Over._

_Morgan? Over._

_Morgan, answer me right now!_

_Morgan!_

He cursed under his breath and brushed off the look that Prentiss was shooting him. _Pity?_

No. 

He broke into a sprint towards Morgan and Reid. 

The clusters of metal jut up in all directions. A large metal overhang extended from the roof of an 8-wheeler and Aaron darted underneath it. Tires and broken glass littered the ground. Dust was kicking up with every step and pooling in the air, choking them. It was dark. Air was cooler under the metal overpass, and then sunlight hit them like a brick as they reached the end. 

In the middle of a bright, blinding, dusty clearing Morgan had his gun trained on the man from the pictures. Kenneth McCaffey. 42 years old. Former stockbroker turned delivery driver. Fiancee left him. No savings. Completely went off the deep end. 

Reid was standing right by Morgan’s side. 

Aaron gasped, “Reid!” 

A twitch of recognition came from Reid across the yard. He didn’t look over. His eyes were trained on Kenneth. 

“Hands up, Ken, it’s over!” Morgan shouted against the hot wind. 

“It’s not! I’m only getting started!” Kenneth hissed. The vein of his forehead was throbbing like a hummingbird. 

Morgan continued, unwavered. “Where you gonna go, Ken, huh? We’ve got you surrounded. Put the gun down, man.” 

Kenneth was standing against the side of an empty 18-wheeler, shaking. In his right hand he gripped a semi automatic and in his left a little pink bow. “Just shut up!” He screamed. “I swear to God, I’ll shoot! If you come even one step closer I’ll blow your fucking brains out!” 

“Just tell us where Julie is.” Morgan cut some of the edge out of his voice. “We just want the girl. Where is she?”

“The girl? The fucking girl?! Who cares?! She’s gone. She’s _dead_! What about _me?_ Huh?!” He rasped, voice breaking. 

Prentiss was gone from behind him. Aaron didn’t even notice. She was back behind the 18-wheeler, then on the side, picking at the lock and pulling it open. It screeched, heavy metal on metal, but Kenneth’s eyes were fixated on Morgan a few yards in front of him. 

“Okay. okay, Ken. You got it, man. I’m not coming any closer.” Morgan said, his voice placating and low. 

Pentiss hopped out from the cargo hull, face empty, eyes dark, and blood covering her hands. She was shaking her head silently.

“I know about Mitchell Robins.” Reid started from behind Morgan, and Kenneth’s head snapped to him. “And South Western Financials.” 

Kenneth’s hand shook; he was backing up against the cargo hull. “You know Mitch?”

“I know all about him. I know that he forced you out of the firm. I know that you didn’t deserve that. I know he turned your life upside down.”

“He screwed me!” Kenneth shouted. “Son of a bitch screwed me! I gave that firm 25 years of my life and look what he did, and everyone took his side! What about _me?!_ ” He hit the gun against his chest, posturing, losing his last bit of control. 

Reid took a step forward. “Get back! Reid!” Aaron shouted. Reid either didn’t care or didn't hear him. He moved closer. Kenneth was shaking like a leaf. The semi automatic clasped against his chest. Reid had his own hand firm on the gun in his holster, resting on his front hip. 

Watching with fire coursing through his veins, Aaron didn’t notice his own fingernails digging into his palms or the blood seeping out. His shoulders were squared back so tight they could snap. Reid inched closer. Morgan was gone from behind him. 

“I can see exactly what they did to you. I see you, Ken.” Aaron could barely hear Reid now; his voice was so soft. “Why did you hurt those kids?”

“Kids? Shut up about the kids!”

Aaron pressed the button on his walkie talkie. “Reid, you get out of there right now. He’s going to blow.” 

Reid’s voice was strong, confident. “I’ve got this, Hotch. He’s not ready yet.”

“He’s going to kill himself and then you. You don’t know what you’re doing. These nearly always end in suicide by cop, and as many casualities as they can get away with. You stand down, _now._ ”

“Can’t.” he said. “It’s too late.”

Everything happened at the same time. _Pop, pop._ The loud thud of a body hitting the ground. Grunting. Clanging. Metal on metal. Sirens blaring in the distance. 

Aaron sprinted forward, straight into the chaos. Sand kicked up, flying in the air, suspended and pricking at his eyes. “Reid!” He shouted. Sand filled his lungs and he coughed. “Reid! Where are you, Reid?!”

Morgan surfaced from behind a sand cloud. His knee was pressed into the small of Kenneth's back. He was reading his rights off as he snapped handcuffs around his wrists. 

“Morgan― Reid, where’s Reid?”

“Pretty boy is fine.” He said, gruff, as he hauled Kenneth to his feet. 

Spencer was standing with his Smith & Wesson 65 clutched in his hands, pointed at the ground. His chest was heaving and his eyes wild. 

He shouted from only feet away. Reid looked over. Aaron motioned for him to come. He looked back at Morgan hauling the UnSub away. He said something to Morgan and paced over, his gun back in its holster. 

“What the hell were you thinking?” He spat. “You could have been killed! And waving that gun around? Who gave that to you?”

Spencer looked back at Morgan. “Sorry, what?” 

Aaron’s grip tightened around his own gun pressed in his right hand.

“I _said_ who gave you that gun?”

“Uh.” He stalled. “I think you need to sit down, Aaron.” 

“I don’t need to sit down.” He shot back.

Spencer came in close. His hands were out as if he were dealing with an unstable suspect. He placed them on his face. “Aaron.” His face was so close. Aaron could feel his breath hot on his cheek, hotter than the air outside. Damp. “Aaron, it’s okay. I’m okay.”

“You could have been hurt!” Dilated eyes darted back and forth to each of Spencer’s. He gripped the lining of Spencer's nylon vest, right under his collar bone. “Don’t do that. I can’t lose you. Why did you do that?”

Spencer frowned, eyes shining. He kept moving forward. Aaron stepped backwards until they were behind an empty upturned van. The van muffled the sirens in the background. Swiftly, Spencer ducked his head into Aaron’s neck and pulled him close. “You’ll never lose me, Aaron. Never. You’re stuck with me.” 

Aaron wrapped his arms around his waist and let Spencer hug him tight. “I better be. But you can’t be coming along like this anymore. It’s not safe.” 

Spencer mumbled into the soft of his neck. “We didn’t sign up for safe.” It was so low Aaron could barely hear it over the sirens, even muffled, in the distance. “You know that.” 

“No, I don’t know.” He muttered. Reid didn’t hear him. He was pulling him by the hand towards the SUV.


	9. Just a Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the previous chapter Spencer followed Aaron to a kidnapping case in Arizona and talked down the Usub while a semi-automatic was aimed right at his face. Aaron was reeling and frantic, ordering him to stand down. He couldn't understand why Spencer was acting so erratic. They flew home and Aaron was just glad that Spencer was safe.

_“Shame I do feel. And I know there is something all wrong about me— believe me. Sometimes I shock myself.”  
― Sophocles, Electra_

### 

Home the next day was tense. Emotions from the case were still hanging in the air between them. Breakfast was silent. Lunch was, too. At dinner, however, Aaron broke. There was no way he could handle Spencer looking at him from beneath those lashes and not crumble. 

“Angel…” 

“Don’t, Aaron.” Spencer looked across the table at him. Indignation was written all over his face. He hadn’t done anything wrong. Keeping Spencer safe meant tough decisions. Keeping Spencer safe meant coddling him if he insisted on tagging along in dangerous situations; if he walked straight into the belly of the beast. 

“No _you_ don’t.” He shot back.

Spencer stopped eating and stared at him. “What’s your problem, Aaron? Huh? Why are you doing this all of a sudden?” 

“My problem is that I give you an inch and you take a mile.” He growled. “That’s my problem. You confronting a killer is my _problem_ , Spence! I mean, what were you thinking?! You could have been killed! I told you to wait in the van!”

“Wait in the van!? What, and sit pretty while you get your hands dirty? Why are you treating me like I’m made of glass? Huh? Or what, you want to feel like a big man, is that it? Big important Unit Chief, calls all the shots?”

“You _know_ that’s not true!” Aaron shouted. “I only want to keep you safe!” 

“What about Prentiss? Morgan? You want to keep them safe too? You see Rossi sitting in the van? I can’t _believe_ you would even ask that of me.” 

“That’s different—“ 

“Why is that different?” Spencer demanded, voice sharp and articulate. “I’m part of the team. I’m the same as everyone else. Treat me fairly, Aaron.” 

“You’re not-“

“Don’t!” Spencer hissed. “Don’t say something you can’t take back.” He kicked his chair back and left the room. Aaron sat back in his own chair, hand raking through his hair, feeling as though he’d just been on a roller coaster aimed straight to the moon.

For once in his life he had no idea what to do.

. . . 

When things go wrong: ignore it. Not a good stance to take in the field, but at home that was Aaron’s motto. Did it ultimately lead to a failed marriage? That’s hard to say. It was absolutely working with Spencer, though, as they sat on the couch with their mouths zippered shut and their eyes on the television. Hands twined and one leg draped over the other’s like they hadn’t just been at each other's throats an hour prior.

Ignore it. 

“I love you.” He decided to break the silence. 

“I love you too.” That was that. 

“Come to bed when you're ready.” Aaron whispered against Spencer’s ear as he got up from the couch. “I’m tired. I’m going to go to sleep.”

“Okay.” Spencer agreed. 

Bedtime routines were soothing to Aaron. Brush your teeth, put on your PJs, wash your face, take your melatonin, shuck off your socks, head to the pillow, and you’re out. 

Aaron’s lids slid shut and he was gone. There was a murky gray static surrounding him like the fizz of a television on the wrong channel, except it was underwater. It shook him with a vibration that cut right through his— his— body? No, he didn’t have any body. He was seeing and hearing and feeling, but he was more of an idea than anything else. 

The static closed in on him tighter and tighter, louder and louder, until _pop_! He was standing outside in a field covered in dandelions. Millions, as far as the eye could see! Like a giant cloud they swished and swayed and hovered just about the ground. 

He looked down at his hands. All ten fingers. He could make a fist and bend his fingers and touch the dandelions at his feet. 

He plucked one.

The stem was long and green. A puffy little ball sat on the top and billowed in the breeze. It was cold. So unlike the— gray? There was gray before, he was sure of it. Was it cloudy, raining? Maybe a storm just passed through. 

Fresh, fragrant, flowery. The dandelion smelled good. Like a summer’s day, or the feeling of accomplishing something that you’ve been working on for a long time. 

He inhaled deep and smiled, but a twitch in his nose kept itching and itching until, _achoo!_

_Achoo!_

_Achoo!_

Tiny seeds flew out, suspended in front of him, and when he breathed in they shot up his nose and in his mouth, straight into his lungs, sending him into a coughing fit that he couldn’t control. Hand on his abdomen, he doubled over, knees thudding on the grass, and he grasped for air one achy cough at a time. The only problem was he couldn’t catch his breath! So he tumbled over onto his back and spasmed on the dandelions like a sick old man: cough, cough, cough!

All the little seeds around him flew up into the air as he thrashed about, and more and more flew into his lungs, filling him up so full that he couldn’t breathe at all! They were surrounding him; they were everywhere!  
Help!

Couch, cough, cough! He couldn’t breathe! 

He reached out. For anything, for something. For help. For a lifeline. He needed to get out of the field. To a hospital. 

He grabbed something solid. Pulled it towards him. 

An arm. Connected to a shoulder. To a torso. To a head. 

Eyes. Black and vacant. 

He hunched himself over it. Help him!

Doll. 

Black vacant eyes. 

Spencer. 

Beautiful. 

Help him!

He couldn’t breathe. 

Oh, god. The dandelions. 

So many dandelions.

His lungs were full. Too full. 

Everything was going gray. 

To back. 

As black as Doll’s vacant eyes. 

Aaron screamed. Deep, wild, and frantic. “Doll!”

He was back in bed. 

Spencer was laying beside him with eyes that looked back with understanding. They weren’t vacant. They weren’t black. They were amber. Kind of yellowish, mostly brown, and entirely alive. 

“Aaron. You’re having a nightmare.” He whispered. “You’re okay, everything's okay. You were dreaming, Aaron. I’m here.”

Aaron whimpered because that’s all he could do. He let Spencer hold him close and let shaky breaths out against his chest. 

“A dream?” He asked. 

“Just a dream. A nightmare.” 

“I feel like I was just drowning.”

“Take a deep breath.” Spencer whispered. “See? Everything is fine.” 

“You were Doll again.” He whimpered. “I was so scared. I was drowning and you were vacant.” 

“I was a doll?” Spencer whispered. “How strange. Don’t worry, baby, I’m right here. I’ve got you. I won’t let you drown. I’ll always be right here to save you if you need me to too.”

“You already did.” 

Spencer hummed, planting a kiss in his hair, and rubbing a strong hand up and down his back. 

Aaron still frowned, clutching Spencer’s green tee-shirt and burying his head into his neck. Touching Spencer was heaven. He pressed his lips to his soft, warm skin and breathed out his first steady breath since the… flowers? Since the flowers filled up his mouth. 

What a horrible dream.

. . . 

Things seemed to slowly slip back into normalcy over the next few days. Aaron spent a lot of time at his desk in his office filling out paperwork; business as usual. If not for the knot in his upper back and the slight slump that he thought he’d rid his shoulders of, he was back on track and happy again. Since he started this job, cases came and cases went, each with their disturbing brand of humanity, but he braved them with the sheer determination that made him unit chief in the first place.

 _Almost_ everything was back in its proper place, rather, because Spencer kept following him to work everyday to the point where he was starting to blend into the background. The team treated him like family. Which, by itself, wasn’t a bad thing. When it was coupled with this strange insistence by Spencer to act like an agent, however, that’s where he drew the line. For Spencer to pretend, sure, but the team? How could they do that so easily?

He was determined to get to the root of the problem, and made a mental note to pull one of them aside later, maybe JJ or Garcia, and see what he could get out of them. JJ would be the most likely to act rationally and have empathy, and Garcia would be the most likely to spill the beans on just about anything. Especially to him. 

When JJ finally hung up the phone, no doubt working on consults for future cases, he took his window and pulled her aside into the breakroom. 

“Hotch? What’s this about?” 

He let go of her arm and searched her face for something, he wasn’t sure what, but only found concern. “It’s Spencer. “ He whispered, closing his eyes and trying to make himself okay with having this conversation. 

She looked at him with interest, the corner of her mouth turning up, and she leaned against the counter. “What about him? Oh! Don’t tell me, is it about his birthday? What are you planning? Wait, I can’t keep anything from him… maybe you shouldn't tell me.” She laughed, her face light and careless. 

“His what?” Aaron asked, taken off guard. “Did he tell you it was his birthday?”

“Come on, Hotch! He’s your boyfriend. You should know his birthday…” She frowned. “You forgot.” 

“No, I didn’t forget, I just didn’t kno—” he stopped himself, frowned, and tried a different approach. “I, uh, I didn’t know if he wanted to do anything.”

“After last year I really think that we should.”

“Last year?”

She leaned in close, her eyes downcast with guilt and she whispered, “No one remembered.” 

Ouch. Though that didn’t _make any sense_. Of course they didn’t do anything because he hadn’t even met Spencer then. No, not _met_ him. 

“What are you talking about?” he asked, features strewn up in confusion.

“What, do you have the memory of a goldish?” She chided, laughing. “That’s not the kind of thing you should forget. We should, you should, really make it up to him this year.” She raised her eyebrows, looking at him expectantly, and left the room. 

Aaron stood there, dazed, and feeling entirely thrown off, as he hadn’t accomplished a simple thing he set out to with her, but instead was left with even more questions. Immediately, he stalked out of the kitchen and headed over to Garcia’s lair. She was much more pleased to see him than he expected, with a huge grin plastered over her face, and her loose purple curls bouncing up and down in her childish excitement. How was Spencer best friends with someone so ostentatious? 

No, he shook his head, she wasn't his best friend. _Derek_ was. 

He huffed. 

Smirking, she herded him over to her workstation and made him sit in one of her big executive computer chairs. 

“What can I do for you, Boss Man, on this wonderful day?” She chirped, spinning around in her chair, making the little sequins on her shirt sparkle. 

“It’s Spencer.” He tried again.

“Ooh, juicy.” She rubbed her hands together, eyeing him with intent. “What about our Boy Genius? You two love birds have a fight? He too cuddly in bed? Are _you_ too cuddly in bed?” She gasped, “Are you finally going to make an honest man out of him, oh, Hotch, I would absolutely die, can you imagine the we-”

“Garcia, please.” He groaned. He was already regretting coming to her for help. “I’m not sure what I’m asking…” He trailed off, unsure how to phrase a feeling. A question that was sitting on the top of his tongue and unwilling to come off. “He’s acting… different. He’s been at the office a lot.” 

“What? At the office? No more than you, I’m sure.” She questioned. “Why, you think he’s… what, lying? About being here? Do you think he’s cheating on you?” She giggled, her mouth up turning into a little disbelieving smile, the kind that shouted, ‘you’re being an idiot!’

“Cheating? No!” Aaron huffed. “No.” 

“Oh, thank God, okay. Spencer would never. I was a little worried you were turning into a jelly donut. I mean, come on. That boy doesn’t have anything to hide.”

“Jelly donut?” He shook his head, scowling at her unusual way of talking. “No, he’s just acting like a part of the team now, like it’s normal.”

“Good!” She beamed. “Finally, right? It took him long enough. He’s opening up, Hotch, don’t shame him for that! He’s made so much progress.” She was staring off in her own thoughts with a warm, fuzzy smile playing out through her deep lipstick, and Aaron groaned, feeling like everything was going in circles. “Oh! And jelly, you know, jealous?” She giggled. “Don’t be getting all jealous and suspicious and controlling, that’s not a good look for your dynamic. You know? As hot as I think it may be, _Boss_ man. ” She waggled her eyebrows and laughed, before looking at him, and dropping her face. “Too far? Yeah, too far. Sorry! No more! I swear.” She mimed a zipper over her lips. 

“That’s not what I— That’s,” He groaned. “I just want to know why— you know what? Nevermind. I'll figure it out.” He muttered to himself. “Back to work, Garia.” 

She nodded, swiveling back around. “You got it Mr. Grumpypants!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im so excited about the next few chaps asdfghj


	10. Where's the Box?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the previous chapter Aaron fought with Spencer, had a nightmare, and tried to figure out what was up with Spencer by asking around at work. He didn't figure anything out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning! Dubious Consent??  
>    
> Thanks for anyyone still reading this Fic! I know it’s totally wacky. You guys are great.

_“Life is a series of natural and spontaneous changes. Don’t resist them; that only creates sorrow. Let reality be reality. Let things flow naturally forward in whatever way they like.” -Lao Tzu_

### 

Aaron collapsed on a chair in the kitchen table when he got home, drained and all out of fight. Nothing went that way that it was supposed to go. Nothing was making sense. 

Spencer headed straight to bed, maybe to read, maybe to sleep, Aaron wasn’t in the mood to find out. He was in the mood for a glass of scotch. There was a bottle in the cabinet and he grabbed it, set it down on the counter and reached for a glass. He didn’t get as far as grabbing one, though, because midway through something caught his eye.

Beyond the counter, in the living room, there was a silver picture frame resting on the fireplace. One that he didn’t remember buying. Or Spencer, for that matter.

He squinted. It was too far away to see so he grabbed the glass, poured himself two fingers of Scotch, and headed over. 

The picture made him do a double take. In the photograph he had his arm around Spencer’s shoulders, and they were on a blanket in the grass sitting in front of a lake. Aaron’s hair was shorter. Much shorter than it was now, and Spencer’s hair was down to his shoulders. Spencer had on one of his FBI shirts, only, Aaron realized, it fit him perfectly. He usually swam in those things. He took a sip of Scotch. 

The back of the frame was easy enough to unlatch, and he thumbed out the picture. Just a regular glossy photograph, the kind you get printed in an hour. There on the back, though, was a date scrawled in faded black ink. 

_Lake Erie, 2008. Angola, NY._

What the hell? 

He had no memory of that trip. He had no memory of Spencer beyond a few months ago when he turned up in a box on his living room floor devoid of life. 

He was a doll. He was vacant. He was…

What was he? 

With disgust, he tossed the photograph on the mantle and downed the rest of his scotch. If he was going to lose his mind, he sure as hell wasn't going to do it sober. 

On his way back to the bottle he saw another photograph framed on the wall. In this one he and Spencer were waving at the camera from in front of a flashy sign reading ‘Las Vegas’. 

That wasn’t there yesterday, was it?

No, it wasn’t. He was nearly positive. He took the frame off the wall and tore out the photograph. 

_2007, Bellagio Hotel. Las Vegas, NE._

No. He’s never been there. He’s never been to Las Vegas except for brief stints while on cases. This photograph was a _lie._

He poured himself another two fingers and gulped it greedily, the burn traveling down his throat and reaching his belly in a satisfying sting. 

How could Doll be in these photographs? How could Doll have made these photographs? He wouldn’t even use a kindle, let alone a computer, so Photoshop was out of the question. 

Aaron's brain throbbed until he had an idea pop out and slide down to his lips, forming a smile. He grabbed his keys from the bowl near the door and headed down into the basement of the apartment complex where his storage unit resided. 

With a satisfying click, the lock unwound and he opened the door to a dark, damp room. Reaching around for a string, he pulled down and a bulb overhead sputtered and crackled to life. The room was empty. 

There was no box. No cherry maple box. 

Where. Was. The. Box. 

Aaron stumbled back, catching his foot on the raised sill at the bottom of the doorway, and reached out, grabbing for something to hold onto, but found nothing, and slammed his back onto the concrete floor. 

“Fuck!”

He tipped his head back in defeat and laid on the ground, his back aching, and sighed. The room was swimming, the light from the bulb dancing on the ceiling, and worst of all his mind was leaking out through his ears like hot lava, pouring itself onto the cold, hard ground, and occupying the space that the cherry maple box should have been. 

Aaron closed his eyes and went to sleep. 

. . . 

_Bzzzzzzzt_

The light was still buzzing overhead like a fly trapped in a jar. There were a few foggy moments where Aaron couldn’t remember where he was, or how he got there, but the ache in his head brought him right back to the night before when he toppled over dunk and slammed his back on the floor. 

He was in the basement. In the basement in his storage unit.

He was looking for… _the box!_

Right in front of him was the cherry maple box in all its glory, resting against the wall right where he left it. His knees cracked as he stood up, winching at the pains in his back, and he closed the distance between him and the only thing keeping him sane. The wood was still smooth and dark. It smelled faintly of wood chippings and coconuts. (the sweet smell that always lingered on Spencer’s hair) 

But wasn’t the box gone last night? There was no denying that in his drunken stupor, and the whole reason he fell down in the first place, he found that the box was gone. If it was gone then why was it right there in front of him, tangible as ever?

It had to be the scotch. Some sort of trick of the lights, even. He must have been too drunk to understand what he was seeing. 

So with a smile playing on his lips, and all prodding questions set aside, he went back up to his apartment. 

What he found there made his heart beat like a drum. 

“Aaron!” Spencer cried, looking up to him from on the couch. 

“Hey, Spence.” Aaron said, his voice mixed heavily with shame and guit. “Look, about last night, I can explain. I know I stayed out all night, but it’s really not what you think. If I could just explain, you’d understand.” 

Spencer just looked up at him with a blank expression. Maybe he was more angry than Aaron thought. 

“Nothing bad, really, It’s just… well maybe it was bad, in a way. I got drunk. Really drunk…” 

Still nothing. In fact, Spencer looked positively confused and it didn’t take a profiler to notice that. 

“What?” Aaron went closer to him. 

“Uh, Aaron, what’s drunk?” Spencer asked, his eyes wide with wonder. He was sitting so still on the couch, and, Aaron realized, had his hair raked back behind his ears like he used to when he was…

“Doll?!” Aaron breathed in, scared to admit how much he was hoping that Doll would smile back and nod. 

“Yes, Aaron?” 

“Oh, God! Doll!” Aaron lunged forward at him, dropping to his knees in front of the couch and capturing him in a backbreaking hug. He clung to Doll so fastidiously he thought that he might never let him go. “My God, how? How are you back? What's happening?” 

“Back from where?” 

Aaron looked at him longingly, all the pent up emotions that had been gnawing at him for the past week gushing up and drowning him. He felt like he was full of dandelions again, but in the best sort of way. Doll was looking at him with those big eyes that only held adoration. He missed those eyes. So innocent and earnest. He didn’t realise until he looked at them how full of complexity Spencer’s eyes had grown. They were tangled and tortuous, clouded by the weight of the world. Spencer had seen death. Spencer saw and knew things that Aaron didn’t know. 

Aaron didn’t know Spencer at all. 

But Aaron knew Doll.

And Aaron loved Doll. He loved Doll so, so much. 

“Angel.” He said, soft and sweet like butterscotch pudding. “I missed you so much. Don’t ever leave me again.” 

Doll giggled and stuttered out, “O-okay,” as Aaron cupped its cheek and slid his fingers though its hair, murmuring sweet nothings to it. Its face turned red with embarrassment, and Aaron keened, wanting to keep it that color for the rest of forever, and then some. 

His fingers trailed to the long hair at the nape of its neck, twisting and twirling. Doll seemed to like it, if the dopey smile on its face was anything to go by. “Never, never, never.” Aaron continued. Adrenaline was still coursing through his system and he felt like he was on cloud nine. “I love you, Doll. I love you. I _love you_. Never change."

“I l―” Aaron clipped Doll off with his lips, pressing them hard against it. Doll squealed under him and he smiled into the kiss. So _adorable._ He remembered how Doll made him feel; how Doll made him want to be a better man. He remembered the awe and the curiosity that Doll made him want to quench. He remembered the way Doll looked at him as if he were a saint, or maybe even God himself. 

He uncurled his fingers and pulled back. Doll was looking all sorts of provocative with its swollen lips, red and wet, and for a moment shame swelled up for sullying his beautiful, pure, little Angel. The juxtaposition of those eyes to those lips, though, that washed away all the doubt in Aaron’s mind. 

“What… was that?” Doll whispered. It touched its fingers to its lips thoughtfully. 

Right. He’d only kissed Spencer.

“Nevermind that.” He said. “I won’t do that anymore, I promise. It’s been a long day. A long week…” 

Doll nodded its head. It was so incredibly agreeable. Aaron smiled.

“How about we do something fun today? I want to spend the day together, no interruptions. I’m even going to turn off my cell, here―” He took out his blackberry and powered it down. “Just you and me. What do you want to do? We can rewatch Lord of the Rings, or I can even watch Dr. Who with you? I know that that’s yours and Penny’s thing, but I think I'd get into it, just for you. We can start at the beginning or where you left off, whichever you prefer. What do you think?” 

Doll scrunched up its nose and took a minute before replying. Its reactions were slower than Spencer’s. “I don't know… what those are.” It whispered, looking vaguely guilty. “But maybe… maybe we can read more books? Like _American History From Settlement to Modern Times: A Comprehensive Look._ I really liked that one. I just finished it this morning.”

No. That didn’t sit right with Aaron. Books were part of the reason that Doll went away in the first place. They made it so smart that it started thinking things that Aaron couldn’t understand. It started to make him feel like he was crazy. 

And he wasn’t crazy. 

But if he wasn't crazy… then what happened to Spencer? And why was― _no_.

No. 

He wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. No questions. Doll was back.

His beautiful Angel was back and he was going to enjoy it. 

“No books.” he said firmly. “No books today. Let’s watch a movie.”

“Okay, Aaron.” Doll smiled. 

. . . 

It’d been 13 hours since Aaron woke up to Doll and they’d spent the entire time inside the apartment with only each other as company. The clock was nearing nine and Doll’s eyes were looking like they were ready to pack up and go home. Sleep was calling him. No, sleep was dragging under with an ironclad grip and an unparalleled determination. 

As much as Aaron wanted to keep the day alive, he was feeling the same sleepiness whispering to him from the bedroom, too. He had a perfect day with Doll from the time they spent playing cards and him watching Doll giggle over his dry jokes, to the familiar pull of nostalgia he felt as he served Doll a hot plate of spaghetti and watched him slurp it up. The only thing left to do was cuddle in bed and let sleep take him. 

So, he ushered Doll on his shaky feet to the bedroom and spooned him with enough love and tenderness to make even Cupid himself sick to his stomach.

“Night, Doll. I love you so much.” Aaron whispered against its amber mess of curls. 

“I love you too, Aaron.” It whispered back happily. 

Next thing he knew, sleep was gone and the birds were chirping again. Sunlight was streaming in from the window and everything felt still. Doll was beside him stirring gently. 

“Morning, Angel.” He cooed. 

“Mmh, Aaron.” It said thickly. “G’morning. M’so tired.” 

“Me too. Come here.” Aaron wrapped his arm tighter around Doll’s chest and pulled it close. 

“M’still mad at you.” Doll said faintly. “Don’t think we’re not going to talk about last night.”

Aaron felt wide awake. 

“What about last night? What was wrong with last night?”

Doll rolled over so it was facing him, and Aaron’s heart dropped into the pit of his stomach. 

No, no, no!

He reached out to touch that short, golden brown hair. “...Spencer?”

“What?” It said. “And you know exactly what was wrong with last night. You didn’t come home.” 

“Yes, I did.” He was breathing heavy and rapid. 

He raised his eyebrows expectantly, “You obviously came home at some point, don’t be daft. But you were out all night... Where were you? I waited around until 3 in the morning for you, and you never showed.”

“I was…” he trailed off. He was with Doll.

“You know what? I’m not sure I want to hear what's going to come out next. I know exactly when you're about to lie to me. So save it, Aaron. I deserve better than this. You know, I thought you’d at least put in the slightest amount of effort considering it was my _birthday_. But who am I kidding? After last year, why did I expect anything at all?”

“Doll…” Aaron choked out. 

“Enough with the nicknames! I’m mad, Aaron. Why are you being like this?” Spencer sat up, the sheet sliding off his shoulders and revealing his bare chest. There was a white little pock mark on his shoulder; a scar. Aaron never saw that before. 

“Yesterday.” He said. He wasn’t paying attention anymore. It was like he was trapped in a tunnel and could only see only a tiny speck of light beckoning him forward. That, and the tunnel was so small. So small he couldn’t even stand up straight. So small he was hunched over, head scraping against the gravely concrete. The light was shining so bright; a pinprick in his swarming darkness. His breathing still hadn’t slowed. Heavy and rapid, he sucked in air and let it go, over and over and over. 

Spencer said something but he couldn’t hear him. He wasn’t in the tunnel. His voice was muffled behind several feet of concrete. 

Had yesterday never happened? The tunnel was getting smaller. Where did Doll go? Did Doll grow up overnight? Did yesterday even happen? The light was getting brighter. _Spencer_ was here now. Why was Spencer back? Breathe in, breathe out. The concrete was scraping against his shoulders. It hurt his back. It was getting too tight in the tunnel. It was hard to breathe. Was Doll a dream? He couldn’t breathe. His chest was tight. The light was bright. He couldn’t breathe. Was _Spencer_ the dream? The muffled voice was getting stronger. He didn't know what was real. He wanted Doll back. His vision swam in the brightness that was overtaking him. Where did the tunnel go? Soft browns came into focus. Yellows, pale blues. Spencer’s eyes were looking back. Voice getting clearer. Words forming. No more tunnel. No more Doll. No more anything. 

Just Spencer. 

“Aaron? Take a breath. In through your nose, there you go, now out through your mouth. Shh, Aaron. You’re okay. You’re fine. You’re having a panic attack.” Spencer said softly, his words like a gentle ocean breeze. Aaron could almost taste the salt, hear the seagulls. 

He breathed in deep. “There you go.” Then out. “It’s okay.” 

A few more breaths and he was in bed again, back sore, hunched over, leaning on Spencer’s shoulder. 

“I don’t know― I don’t know.” he chanted mindlessly. 

“Shhh.” 

“I dont _know_.

“You don’t have to know.” Spencer said. “You’re not thinking straight. You’re not making any sense. Don’t worry. It’s just anxiety. It’ll pass.” 

“I’m making perfect sense.” Aaron spat. “Doll is gone, and nothing is how it should be.”

“I don’t know what this doll is that you keep talking about. Aaron, what did you mean yesterday never happened?”

“I meant that it never _happened_!” His voice was raised; wavering, but vehement. “No― _no_. THIS isn't happening. This right now. THIS is the dream. I’m dreaming; that’s it. I’m dreaming. You're not real. Doll is real. _Doll_ is real.”

“What are you saying…?” Spencer scooted away on the bed. 

“I’m saying that you’re not real. I don’t _know_ you.” 

“Aaron… I think you had another nightmare? You’re awake now… this is real. You’re awake.”

“Stop it.” Aaron demanded. “Stop it. You’re not real. I don’t know you. We never went camping, and we never went to Las Vegas, and we’ve never done _anything_ together. We― we went to Thanksgiving. That’s it. That’s _it_. Then you started― you started, I don’t know what you started to do, but you’re not him either. You’re― I don't know who you are.” 

Spencer was scooted so far back he was practically off the bed. Good. Aaron didn’t want to be close to him anyway. 

“We have been those places. We have pictures―”

Yeah, I _saw_ the pictures.”

“Okay? So?” he said, his voice shaking. “You do know me, Aaron. We’ve been together for years. We went to Las Vegas to visit my mom. We go there every year. You had a nightmare. You’re confused…”

“No! _This_ is the nightmare. _You_ are the nightmare.” 

“I’m not…” he trailed off, his face blank. 

“Wake up, oh God, wake me up. I can’t do this. I want Doll, please, where’s Doll? I want Doll. What have you done to Doll? You used to be Doll… I ruined you. You used to be Doll and I _ruined_ you with all those damn _books_. I need― I need a drink.”

“No… You don’t need a drink.” Spencer said, his words cold. “You're probably still drunk, actually, were you drinking last night? Or, this morning, technically? What, if you came back drunk after three, God, yeah, you’re drunk, aren’t you?” he asked, and it wasn't really a question. 

“I wish I were.” 

“I think you should cut back, Aaron. You’re starting to scare me...” 

“I think you need to leave me alone.” he said, avoiding his gaze. “Please.” 

“Fine.” Spencer replied, and left.


	11. Who is Reid?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the previous chapter Aaron got confused about the pictures of him and Spencer in the house. The box was gone from the basement but storage but when he woke up it was back, and so was doll. Spencer appeared again the next morning and he had a panic attack which led him to saying hurtful things and making Spencer leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to post on Sun; oops!

_“It's just one more thing she hadn't considered, and as the idea of it settles over her, she realizes again how entwined their lives are. They're like two trees whose branches have grown together. Even if you pull them out by the trunks, they're still going to be twisted and tangled and nearly impossible to separate at the roots.” ― Jennifer E. Smith  
_

### 

Spencer didn’t come home that night, but he did show up the next day at work. Dealing with Spencer was difficult because with him there were all these emotions attached that Aaron couldn’t seem to figure out. He was a profiler for God’s sake, but that didn’t make relationships any easier. 

Spencer spent the day avoiding him like the plague, mostly hanging around Derek and JJ, sometimes venturing back to Garcia’s lair. He was soft spoken and made himself small, and in that way Aaron could pretend he wasn't there if he tried hard enough. 

JJ crept in his office half past 11, frowning at him, and he couldn’t pretend any longer. This would never happen if Doll were around. If Doll was real. Was Doll real?

He shook his head of the thoughts and gestured for her to come inside. She leaned against the side of his desk and stared at him like her silence was asking a question, but Aaron didn’t know how to speak silence. 

“What, JJ?” He sighed. 

“Come on, Hotch, really? After the talk we had the other day about not forgetting?”

“Oh, that.”

“Yeah, _that._ ”

“So he told you?”

“Yes,” she said, exasperated, “but only after I pried it out of him. Do you know how embarrassed he is that you of all people forgot his birthday, no, _ditched_ him on his birthday? What were you even doing? What was more important than him?” She looked away, like it was too hard to face him during the next part. “ _Who_ were you with?”

“Jesus, JJ! Noone! I wasn’t cheating on him!” He retorted, offended as he could be after how much he screwed up. But in all honesty, he didn’t even know Spencer had a birthday, so was it really his fault?

“Well, then, what?” She asked, still looking out the window and into the bullpen. 

“I can't tell you… it wouldn’t make any sense. But it was nothing _bad_.”

“Right. Not bad but you still can’t tell me about it. Or him.” She huffed. “He deserves better, you know.”

Aaron ran his fingers through his hair, not actually knowing if what he was about to say had any semblance of truth. “I know.”

“Make it right, Hotch.”

. . . 

Aaron didn’t know how to make it right. He was never good at that. He was never good at anything that didn’t involve a hard set of rules. Gray areas and the inconsistency of emotions were too difficult for him to pin down. Just look at where he ended up with his ex-wife: he couldn’t save that from going under even with 10 years under his belt and a kid in tow. 

So he ended up sending Spencer a gift from online (thank god for same day delivery), which didn’t really scream ‘thoughtful’, but he wasn’t thinking much to begin with.

A couple hours later Spencer barged into his office with a bottle of Jack clutched in his hand, and a look of vehemence etched on his otherwise beautiful face.

“What is this, Aaron?” 

“It’s Jack Daniels.” 

“I know it’s _Jack Daniels_. Why would you send me this? Is this a joke?”

“No, it’s not a joke. It’s a peace offering.” He stood up from his desk, and watched Spencer take a step back from him. “For missing your birthday… for getting drunk on your birthday. I’m... sorry.”

“Sorry isn’t going to cut it. Neither is this.” He waved the bottle around in front of him. 

Aaron put his hands down on the edge of his desk and groaned, unable to look Spencer in the eyes anymore. It was never this difficult with Doll. Doll wouldn’t care if he missed its birthday. Doll didn't even have a birthday. Doll was so much easier, and Doll never looked at him with disdain the way Spencer did. His relationship with Spencer was too fractured. There was bad blood between them. They had _fights_. They had _misunderstandings._ They had to _work for it_. He didn’t like that. 

“I'm sorry” he whispered, resigned. “I’m a terrible boyfriend.” 

Spencer dropped the bottle of Jack to the floor with a heavy _thud_ and took another step back. “I’m not your _boyfriend_ , Aaron. I’m your _Fiancé_. Why you insist on being such― such a jackass, I’ll never know. You were the one who proposed to me! Or did that mean nothing to you?” He paused, and Aaron finally looked back up at him, only to be met with red, shiny eyes. “You know what? Forget it. It doesn’t matter.”

“Wait― no.” Aaron stuttered. “Fiancé?” 

Spencer turned his head away, tears falling down his cheeks. Aaron burned red hot in embarrassment; someone cranked the heat up to 80. He couldn’t look at that face. The room felt tight. Again, with Spencer, he felt like everything was caving in. 

He looked down at his desk and noticed the picture frames that were lining it. How had he not seen those before? There was one of him and Spencer in front of a historical Victorian church, with Aaron down on one knee. Saint Peter's Basilica, he thought, a 15th Century church in Vatican City. He proposed to Spencer in Rome? 

_No,_ he didn’t. 

He didn’t even know where Saint Peter’s Basilica was, much less what time period it was from. 

Except that he did.

He looked up at Spencer, but Spencer was gone. 

. . . 

Spencer slept so far away from him on the bed that he couldn’t even feel his weight on the mattress.

When he woke up, he was gone. He wasn’t in the kitchen, the living room, or the bathroom. His things were missing. The pictures were gone. 

Aaron slumped back into bed wondering whether or not this was a blessing in disguise. Maybe now Doll would come back, or the more innocent version of Spencer at the very least. 

He got through the first day just fine; it was as if he slipped back into his old life, and a sick comfort came from being all alone. 

It took a week for that comfort to wear off. By then, he was missing the way Spencer filled his silences with mindless chatter and warmed him up at night. 

He missed the late night movie marathons and the way Spencer always made him think during a discussion; how he challenged him. 

Spencer was certainly better than _nothing_.

No one at work said anything about Spencer’s sudden disappearance, either. Not even JJ, who was basically Spencer’s long-lost older sister. She hadn’t so much as thrown a funny glance his way. 

So when he barked out ‘Wheels up in 30’ the next thing out of his mouth was directed at JJ and it was, “Can you tell Reid?’

She stopped looking at her tablet and raised her eyes to meet his. “Who?” she asked. 

“Reid, JJ, is he coming?”

“Again, who? I don’t know what you’re talking about, Hotch. Is there a new hire? I haven't heard anything about a ‘Reid’.”

“What are you saying?” Aaron almost growled. He didn’t have the patience for games. If he and Spencer were fighting, that was his own business. JJ didn’t need to take sides and act like… whatever this was.

“I, uh.” She shifted her eyes to the side. Morgan walked up, eyeing him with curiosity. 

“What’s going on here, guys?” Morgan said, calculatingly light. His mouth barely upturned into a smile. 

“Nothing.” Aaron quipped. “Nothing is going on apparently, because JJ wants to act like nothing is wrong.” 

“Jayje?” Morgan asked, and the two of them shared a glance. Aaron wasn’t sure how to read it. What did that glance mean?

“Aaron is waiting for, uh, Reid. He’s coming on the case with us.” 

“Reid?” Morgan said, mulling the name over in his mouth like he was tasting it. “Hotch, man, who’s Reid?”

“You know perfectly well who Reid is, Morgan.” 

“Maybe you can remind me?” Morgan asked. His face was annoyingly neutral like he didn’t give a rat’s ass about the fact that Spencer had been gone for the past week. 

“Remind you? I don’t think _you_ of all people need a reminder.” Aaron spat. “You, his 'best friend'... You know where he is don’t you? Did he come running to you, huh, after he was done with me? You have him at your house? You tell him I want him to come home _now_.”

“Woah, woah, woah. Slow down. There’s no one at my house. I’m not trying to take anything from you, Hotch.” Morgan said, his eyebrows knitted up.

“He’s not a _thing_!” Hotch yelled, and JJ stumbled back with wide, frightened eyes. 

Morgan looked over to her, reaching out and grabbing her forearm protectively. She smiled and whispered that she was okay. Aaron could hear it. Why were they acting like he was a monster? Why was JJ so afraid? She could have just been truthful with him and none of this would have even happened. 

He never should have bought Spencer that bottle of Jack.

JJ turned around and walked off before he could reach out to grab her. Morgan’s eyes dialed in on his outreached hand and grabbed it. 

“Hotch, I’m warning you…” He said, in almost a whisper. “Don’t do something you’ll regret.”

“I don’t have regrets.” Aaron spat. 

He regretted that bottle of Jack. 

He regretted giving Doll all those books. 

He regretted ever introducing Doll to the team. 

“Right. Okay. No, you don’t. Look, why don’t you come with me?” Morgan looked up towards the offices above the bullpen. 

“Get your hand off me, Morgan, now. I’m not going anywhere with you.” 

“That’s right, because you’re coming with me.” A large man walked up to the side of the two, bearing a badge on his chest. “Let’s keep this civil.”

“You called security?” Aaron scoffed. 

“Agent Hotchner. Don’t make this difficult.” The security guard cautioned. He was much bigger than Aaron. 

Aaron looked up, finally realizing how many people were standing around watching him. There was JJ and Strauss standing together, Rossi looking at him sadly, Morgan, still, with a wicked look of delight, Garcia on the periphery, Agent Micheals, Agent Dally, Agent Teramide, and a dozen others all standing around _watching_.

“Okay.” he relented. “Okay, okay fine. Let’s go.” 

Aaron followed the security guard out of the bullpen and down a long series of hallways into an office that he’d rather not be. 

Human Relations. 

“Take a seat, Agent Hotchner. Do you need some time to cool off?”

A woman was seated across the room at a desk, a sickly sweet smile plastered on her lips and a wicked twinkle in her eye.

“I do not.” He said. 

“Then take a seat.” 

He did. 

“Suffice to say you won’t be heading the case in Georgia today.” 

“Yes, I will.” he said decidedly. “Just get through whatever you need to and I’ll brief on the jet. This can’t take more than, what, 20 minutes?” 

“This is going to take much more than 20 minutes, I’m afraid.” She was not afraid. 

“I’m leaving.” Aaron made to stand up, but the security guard was still right behind him and placed a hand down on his shoulder.

“Not quite yet.” 

“My team needs me―” He protested. 

“Your team will be just fine without you, Agent Hotchner. Your team is being briefed as we speak about the situation at hand. Agent Morgan will be taking over as interim Unit Chief.”

“No!” He shouted, the thought of that retching his gut in a way that he hated. Not Morgan. Anyone but Morgan. 

“Calm down, Agent.” 

“I am calm!” The room was so stuffy that it felt hard to breathe. It felt like his lungs were all clogged up. 

The wicked woman asked him a series of questions while his head was still reeling and he was trying to breathe through his stuffy lungs. He nodded a lot. He was losing steam. 

“It’s called involuntary leave.” she said in a finalizing tone. 

“Involuntary leave?”

“It means you won’t be back for a while.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just sitting here laughing my ass off at my own stupid jokes asdfghjkl. That bottle of Jack, oh my God, how can Aaron be so thick I'm dying


	12. Who... Are... You...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the previous chapter Aaron had a fight with Spencer where he forgot his birthday and gifted him alcohol. Spencer left. Aaron had a breakdown at work a few weeks later because no one knew who Reid was. He got sent to HR where he was put on involuntary leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright get ready for a weird chapter i'm not apologizing
> 
> Edit: warning for idk, dubcon? earning for violence/gross/alarming

_  
“You were the most beautiful thing that I’d ever seen. I couldn’t decide whether to pluck you out of the sky and cage you, or simply break your wings.” ― Nenia Campbell, Star Crossed_

### 

The team was thousands of miles away without him.

 _His_ team. 

_He_ was the leader, _him._

Aaron threw back another glass of rum. 

HIS CASE. HIS TEAM. HIS. 

He tipped the bottle against the glass and watched the amber liquid trickle out. Almost gone. 

How much had he drank since he got home halfway through the workday? And since when did he start drinking Captain Morgan?

Since when did nothing make sense, nothing, not even a thing?

He blacked out. 

How many days did he spend on the floor of his apartment? He was starting to lose count. There was Monday and Tuesday, he didn’t remember Wednesday, but Thursday definitely happened, or at least half of it, and today was Saturday so that meant Friday probably came and went, too. 

Everything was pain. Everything was numb. 

There was nothing worse than the ache in his heart for Doll. Hell, even Spencer. God, what he wouldn’t give for Spencer’s eyes, full of complexity as they were, to be staring back at him. He would have cried if crying was something he was capable of. 

Doll, Spencer… anyone, _please?_

Aaron didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts. 

Aaron wanted movie marathons and inside jokes. He wanted to watch Dr. Who and listen to things he didn’t understand. He wanted to feel stupid. He wanted to learn something new everyday. He wanted a reason to cook breakfast, get out of bed, and take a shower. 

He wanted Doll. He wanted Spencer. 

But Aaron never got what he wanted. 

In fact, Aaron got something worse. 

He woke up on Sunday, four in the afternoon, head pounding, to the sound of scraping in the living room. 

“Doll?” He called out. “Is that you? Spencer?”

The scraping continued. The sound of rubber squeaking. A rhythmic _thud, thud, thud._

There was a skeleton sitting on the living room floor. 

No― no, not a skeleton. Aaron staggered to the left, hitting his shoulder on the doorframe. 

_Not_ a skeleton, because skeletons don’t have skin. 

But wasn’t that all that this thing was: skin and bones? 

It didn’t even look up at him when he entered the room. It just kept sliding its sneakers against the hardwood floor, _squeak_ , and digging its nails in the same course indents, _scratch_ , and hitting the back of its head back against the wall, _thud_. 

“Hello…?” 

It groaned. 

“What’s wrong?”

In a slow, agonizing movement, it raised its head and met Aaron with dark, sunken eyes, bloodshot to hell. 

“Spencer…?” 

“Hm?” It sounded so far away. _Squeak. Squeak. Scratch. Thud._

“Spencer… you’re… you're… what happened to you?”

“s’nothin.” He slurred. 

Aaron knelt down in front of him, no longer afraid. His heart ballooned up in his chest. Suddenly being alone was gone. This… _thing_ was here. That was something, right?

“It’s something.” Aaron said. “Who did this to you?” 

“D-don’t you know?” It almost sounded like a laugh. Maybe it would be if it weren’t so airy and fickle. “H― h― no. You, you know. Can’t. N’more. Shh.”

“Spencer, I don’t know. One day you’re healthy, and okay, extremely mad, but how did you lose this much weight that fast? You were gone for weeks, Spencer, where did you go?” 

Spencer didn’t answer. _Thud. Thud. Thud. Scratch._

“You just left. And you turn up like this? Were you with Morgan? Did he do this to you?” Aaron reached out, grabbed Spencer’s arm, and he jerked back violently as if electrocuted. 

“N-no!” He cried. 

“Spence. It’s just me. It’s Aaron.” 

“I kno’.” Squeak. Squeak. 

“I don’t know what’s going on… but I want to help. I’ve missed you so much…”

“D’need it. M’fine.” He whispered. 

“You don’t look fine.” Aaron said. “You look like you need a bath and eight hours of sleep.”

“No! ‘don’t. I need— I need― ah.” _Thud. Scratch. Squeak._

“Tell me. Tell me and I’ll give it to you.” He pleaded. He’d give Spencer anything. Anything in the world just to please him. He just wanted this behavior to _stop._

“Lea’ me ‘lone. Pleas’.” He breathed. “Pleas’.”

“No. I’m not going to leave you alone.” 

It groaned. _Thud. Thud. Thud._

Aaron's knees were starting to ache so he sat down on the floor next to him. The rest of the afternoon was spent in silence, save for those incessant noises, but Aaron didn’t mind too much. Spencer was there and that’s all he needed, really. 

Even when Spencer refused to talk to him, it was fine. When he refused to make eye contact, eat the food that he cooked, even get up from the floor, it was fine. When Aaron tried to touch him, the ripple of anxiety that flashed through his features was depressing but not deterring. The way he jerked back and caved in smaller upon himself was fine. 

It was all fine, expect that it wasn’t, not even a little bit, not even at all. Because Spencer like this was the most grotesque form of Doll that Aaron had seen yet, and he’d give anything just to go back and do it all over again. He’d do it right this time and it would never get to _this_.

This vibrating, twitchy, red-eyed mess that sat on his living room floor. 

His hair was wild and greasy, dark rings surrounded his eyes, parts of his skin were dark and smudged, not having seen soap or water in what would had to have been days, even weeks, and his red sweater vest was torn, blue dress shirt discolored and disheveled.

He’d never seen Spencer in so much despair. Hell, he’d never seen Spencer in any despair except during the shit that he put him through when they were arguing about things Aaron didn’t understand. 

“Spencer?” Aaron inched closer to him. His body heat was radiating in the best way. He was finally close again. Spencer was here. He hadn’t seen Spencer in weeks. He needed this. 

He needed this, but he didn’t want _this_.

“Pleas’ leave me ‘lone.” he muttered. He was curled into a ball, head resting on his knees, and arms slung tightly around them.

“Just a minute.” he pleaded. 

“N-no. wanna be ‘lone.”

“But I’ve missed you, Spencer, I’ve missed you so much. I needed you. Do you know how long you were gone for? I didn’t know what to do without you.” Aaron said and watched Spencer’s fingers dig into his forearms, the pads of his fingers white, and the nails pressing angry red indents into his skin. “I need you.”

Aaron tried to reach forward and envelope him in a hug. He needed it. But Spencer flew back against the wall with a _thud_ , and a whimper escaped his throat, so Aaron learned back and scowled. The angry little indents were crying red tears and Aaron had to look away. 

“Fine. Goodnight.” he quipped. 

He wasn’t going to spend another second looking at Spencer like that. If Spencer was back, maybe then he could go to sleep and wake up to something else. 

He climbed in bed, squeezed his eyes shut, and willed himself to sleep. The sound of Spencer’s _thud, thud, thuds_ sounded out in the distance. 

. . .

In the morning when he woke up, Aaron listened for the thud, thud, thuds, but found none. 

He crept out into the living room, afraid to look, afraid to admit the feeling of hope in his chest, only to be met with Spencer's dirty form curled up on the floor. 

“NO!” He shouted. “No! No, no, no!” 

Spencer jolted on the floor, eyes flying open, breath caught in his throat, and he slammed his head into the molding by accident. “Aauuuhg―”

“No! No more of this! I’m done!” Aaron walked to the kitchen and pulled out a bottle. He twisted the top with a snap and chugged down a few mouthfuls. He sputtered and coughed, but the liquor was warming his insides up so he could hardly complain about the sting. 

“I’m not doing this. I want Doll back.” He said, “I’ve had enough of this shit. I’ll just go back to sleep again until the _real_ Spencer is back.” Without even so much as looking up at him, Spencer trembled from his spot on the floor. 

Screw it. He tipped back the bottle and took gulp after gulp. The sides of his vision were starting to slow down and his body was tingling but also turning kind of mushy like pudding. Gulp. His thoughts were spinning and so was the room, and Spencer was to his left, then his right, then on the ceiling, and then back near the wall. Or maybe Aaron was all of those places. He stumbled back into bed; he’d only been away from it for all of 20 minutes, and plopped down unceremoniously. Gulp, gulp. 

His eyes slipped closed. The bed was spinning in circles. Woosh, woosh, woosh, like he was back at the park across from his old house in Charleston, laying in the middle of the merry-go-round, and letting Sean spin him.

He backed out. 

All he could remember for the longest time was darkness. Pitch black darkness, the kind that light forgot about, the kind that was shoved into a corner and ignored. As hard as he tried, he couldn't remember a time that there _wasn’t_ darkness. It was all-consuming and whole, like a big blanket wrapping him up and suffocating him. 

The blackness was palpable; the blanket thick. When he reached out his arms, he was reaching into a jelly jar, so dense and viscous, and it hardly made any sense to move at all because there wasn’t much room for anything in there. Wherever there was, that is. 

So, he stood stock still, just breathing the heavy air, thick with slimy apprehension and a muted terror that dripped down his clammy skin. Darkness. He didn’t know where he was, and it wasn’t just darkness― it was nothing. It was nowhere. It was suffocating, it was scummy, it was mucky, it was oozy, sludgy, muddy, dirty, gloomy. It was pitch black and going nowhere. 

Until a hazy little light flared up and chased the darkness away. Black wasn’t everything anymore. There was yellow and brown, gray and white. The oozy vile blackness wasn’t consuming him, no, he could move his feet forward and walk, and walk he did. His footfalls squished and squashed in the dark but he didn’t care. He didn’t care with how much force he had to pull his legs forward through the muck; he wanted to see the bright little light. 

It started out as a pinprick and grew bigger as he traveled forward. The darkness became thinner; the air diluted. The concentration of the nowhere was failing. The light was getting brighter, a star in his field of vision, then an asteroid, a meteor. But there was something in the middle of that meteor. A muted black dot against the anxious light. 

The air was wishy-washy, bright, and buzzing. The sense of gloomy suffocation slipping away and replaced by a static thinness, razor sharp. Tense, stressed. Serious, sick, pensive, painful, violent. Thin. The light was bright, the size of the moon and growing larger. 

He stepped forward. His legs were weightless in the thin air. 

He was running. The light was getting so bright. The black dot grew. 

It grew so big. The moon was huge. A shape took hold.

A silhouette. 

He was almost at the moon. The air was so thin he could hardly breathe. 

Everything was cold. Senses sharpened. So clear. All edges. Dialed up to 10.

A silhouette. 

A nervous breath. 

A cold sweat. 

A living death. 

The moon was looming large. Shining bright. 

Anxious light, overwhelming, all-consuming. 

A silhouette. 

Aaron squinted his eyes. 

Dark features coming into focus.

Long hair. 

Lanky limbs. 

Innocent stare.

“Doll!” He kept running. 

Arms outstretched. Reaching. 

Reaching for Doll. 

He was almost there. 

He stumbled― cold, hard, stone crashed into his knee―

There was pain, and now he knew _red_.

He tripped over top of the stone, falling. 

He fell to his red knee, hissing and confused. 

Focus. Such focus on Doll he didn’t look right in front of him. 

Doll was standing so close. Right above him. Red trickled down his leg.

He looked behind him. The stone level with his eyes. Cold, blue stone, and now he knew _blue._

Gravely, hard, and etched markings cut deep inside. 

It was a gravestone.

He looked around. Light was shining everywhere. There was no more darkness. 

Gravestones flooded the ground. Graveyard. 

He looked up.

Doll. Innocent eyes. 

“Doll?”

Doll reached down.

A half-silhouetted hand outreached. 

He grabbed. 

It was so soft. He missed Doll’s soft skin. 

Doll pulled him up but he couldn’t keep hold— Doll was slipping away!

He grabbed harder. The hand was thinner, spacey, like air. 

So soft, almost weightless, barely there at all. It vanished. 

His hand grasped at nothing.

“Doll! Come back!”

Bright, thin, sharp. 

Aaron breathed in. Anxious light. 

So bright. 

Everywhere. Everything. 

So very, very _bright_ ―

He opened his eyes to his bedroom; sunshine was pouring in from the open curtain and Doll stood beside it, smiling dreamily. “Hi, Aaron. Rise and shine, right?” 

_Love._

“That’s absolutely right, Doll.” He breathed out. All his apprehension slipped away. “C’mere.”

Doll nodded, padding over in his striped PJ bottoms and Aaron’s ‘09 run-for-a-cure triathlon shirt. “Yeah?”

“Closer.” Aaron smiled. His eyes crinkled. 

“Hmm?” Doll was tight against the side of the bed, looking at him curiously, his eyes twinkling. 

“I missed you, sweetheart!” He proclaimed, happy and confident for the first time in weeks. He grabbed Doll’s hands and pulled it down onto the bed, making it squeal and and yelp and squirm in his grasp. They ended up all tangled in sheets and limbs and suffocating on giggles. Doll’s arms were sprawled about, its one leg wrapped up in the sheet, the other pressed on the outside of Aaron’s thigh which was wedged in between them. It was smiling unabashedly, every fiber of its being soaked in pure happiness. Aaron knew then that this was it. This was the peak. There wasn’t going to be anything better than this moment right here. Doll was it. 

Doll was happiness. 

Its hair was tousled all about, and for the second time that Aaron could remember it was  
framing its face so wonderfully that it looked like an amber halo of waves. His Angel. 

He was looking down at it, from where he was perched over top, a hand on either side of its shoulders, and he leaned down to press a kiss to its rosy cheek. 

“Doll. Doll, Angel, I’ve missed you.” He all but sang. He pressed a kiss to the other cheek and earned a shy giggle. 

“I missed you too, Aaron.” 

“Why did you have to go? I don’t like it when you leave… I want you to stay this time.”

“I don’t know.” It said, and Aaron didn’t think it could lie. 

“Stay with me. Forever. Don’t ever leave me again, Doll, I can’t handle a life without you.” 

“Okay, I’ll stay.” 

“Forever? You mean it?” He was tentative. Memories of rejection flooded his head. Not with Doll, though, never with Doll. 

“Yes.”

“And we could get married?” 

“Married? What’s married, Aaron?” It asked, looking up at him. 

Aaron slid his hand up Doll’s neck and cradled its cheek in his palm. He rubbed his thumb over its cheekbone. So pretty. “It’s when you vow to love someone with your whole heart, in sickness and in health, until death do you part. It’s when you pick one person, and decide they’re it. They’re your person.” 

“You’re my person?”

“I am.”

“And I’m yours?”

“You’re mine.”

“And we're going to get married?”

“If that’s something you’d like, Angel.”

It looked right into his eyes, and a warm fire spread through Aaron’s body as it said the best words that he would ever hear: “We’re going to get married!”


	13. NO MORE SLEEP

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the previous chapter Aaron went home and got shit faced, saw a weird thing in his living room, blacked out, had a freaky dream, and woke up to Doll.

_“If you can't get what you want, you end up doing something else, just to get some relief. Just to keep from going crazy. Because when you're sad enough, you look for ways to fill you up.”  
― Laura Pritchett, Sky Bridge _

### 

“We’re going to get married!”

“Yes, we are, love.” Aaron whispered up against its ear. “Come closer and cuddle. I missed you so much, let’s spend the morning in bed.’

Doll shuffled closer to Aaron who dropped down beside it. It nestled its head in the crook of his arm, and rested its head on his chest. Aaron tightened his arm around Doll’s shoulder and sighed into its hair, pressing a kiss down on top.

“I could stay here forever with you, just like this.” Aaron whispered. His voice was husky and low and full of feeling. Doll hummed back, its eyes closed and listening to Aaron’s heart beat in his chest. 

They stayed like that the entire morning, shifting around, moving arms and legs and nestling together impossibly close. Aaron never felt so connected to anyone in his entire life. The way that Doll pressed up against him with a smile sent this thoughts reeling, heading for places he never considered going. That place was happiness. It was contentment. 

He shifted Doll around from where he was spooned up against his chest and kissed its cheek gently. Doll blushed and looked up into his eyes with reverence. He whispered sweet things to it, caressing its hand, which he pressed up against his chest.

Surprisingly, Aaron ended up breaching the topic of his childhood, something he wouldn’t normally touch with a 15-foot pole. With Doll there he felt the words pour out of his mouth in the most freeing sort of way. He wanted to share with Doll. He told it everything about his father, his mother, and the way Shawn left a hole in his heart the day he decided to run away and leave Aaron all alone in that house. 

Doll didn’t have any secrets to share; Aaron knew everything about it already. 

His stomach grumbled and he picked Doll up out of bed, something that made it laugh and squirm, and brought it to the kitchen where he planned to make it breakfast. He was thinking waffles and eggs. Doll always liked eating waffles. 

Doll sat at the kitchen table watching him cook. It wanted to help but Aaron told it that wasn’t necessary and it should just relax. It didn’t need to learn how to make waffles if it had Aaron there to do that for it. Aaron didn’t have to go back into work, so now he never had to leave Doll. Just him and Doll forever. The thought wasn’t that bad, and he may have found himself thinking that being brushed off by the BAU was worth it if it meant he had more time here with the only thing he loved. 

He didn’t _need_ his nosy coworkers or their misgivings about his love life, or the confusion written on their faces. He just needed Doll. 

They sat and ate breakfast together until their stomachs were full. Then Doll plopped down on the couch and watched Aaron as he read the newspaper. Aaron could hardly focus, though. He ended up reading Doll’s face far more than the paper.

“I’m going to take you on a date.” He said around lunchtime. Doll was munching on a sandwich and he smiled all goofy, lettuce falling out of his mouth. Aaron laughed because that wasn’t exactly the romantic reply he was looking for, but it was one that he loved. Doll blushing and giggling and doing something adorably clumsy, that was good. 

He took Doll’s hand and led it upstairs, out by the fire escape, all the way to the top of his apartment complex. He lived on the ground floor, but it only went up a few stories. The sun was setting, a red dot in the distance. Doll trailed behind him clutching his hand hard. 

“Wow. It’s so pretty…” It breathed. It pressed up against the raised side of the roof. “The prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Aaron slid up behind and pressed his hands firm against its hips and nosed against its neck. He didn’t need to look at the sunset. Doll was the most beautiful thing in his world. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t take you anywhere.” Aaron said into its neck. “ I don’t know where I would bring you. I don't think you’d like a restaurant or the movies, or anything loud and chaotic like that. Up here… it’s just the two us.” 

“I love it, Aaron. I love our date. And you. You’re the best man I’ve ever known.”

“Mh, Doll.” Aaron sighed. 

“The sky is so pretty" it said, "but the sun is gone now.” 

“That's okay, that's the nature of a sunset. Breathtaking and beautiful, but it doesn't last forever. Besides, the moon is here. We’ll look at the stars.”

By 11, Doll was curled up on Aaron’s side and wrapped in a big wool blanket. Aaron was watching the way that Doll kept counting the stars one by one. It got all the way up to 745. It yawned into his chest and spoke softly. 

“M’tired.” 

Aaron let it hang in the air. He wasn’t tired quite yet. He rubbed Doll’s arm, soothing and slow, ran his fingers through its hair as it sighed, and kissed the top of its head. “Let’s get up then. Our date isn’t over.” 

“It isn’t?” Doll rubbed at its eyes. 

“Nope. Now come on, let’s get the blankets and go back inside.” He lugged everything down by himself and Doll followed him slowly. 

“Here, sit.” Aaron motioned at the couch. “I’ll make you some coffee.” 

“Aaron, m’sleepy though. I don’t want any coffee.”

Aaron pressed a kiss to its forehead. “Shh. Just a cup. You want to finish the date, don’t you?”

“Yeah.” It said, a smile tugging at its lips. “I like the date. I want to finish.”

“Okay. Then coffee it is.” 

. . . 

Doll sat in Aaron’s lap drinking coffee and laughing at late-night sitcom reruns. The clock blared green overhead, _02:20_. The window was open and blew in a cold breeze, but they couldn’t feel it under the blanket.  
“Finish your coffee, sweetheart.” Aaron whispered against its ear. Doll giggled and took another sip. 

“I’m all done.” It placed the mug on the side table and turned back towards Aaron with a glint in its eyes. “What next?” 

“We’re going to stay up all night. It’s called an all-nighter. What do you think?” 

“Yay!” Doll grinned. “All-nighter. Me and you up all night. Can we read?”

“No, no reading. That’s not what all-nighters are about.” 

“Then what?” It tilted its head to the side. 

“Talking, cuddling. And keeping your eyes open. Books will make you sleepy. I don't want you sleepy, not tonight.”

“Okay.”

. . . 

They made it to morning and sat outside on the steps to watch the sun rise. Making it till morning wasn’t even the hard part, either, because once the caffeine kicked in, Doll was a bundle of energy practically bouncing off the walls.

The hard part was 2pm when Doll’s head was lulling to the side and it was dozing off. Aaron had to shake it awake. Every time he shook it, it startled and mumbled something about love, spaghetti, or bitter coffee. 

Aaron wasn’t tired yet. His head was in the game. 

That game was stay awake until humanly impossible. 

Until his eyes dropped out of his head. 

Until his mind turned into a slimy pink brain soup.

He wasn’t going to sleep unless he was dead or damaged. Not when that _thing_ could be there when woke up. No, Doll was here now and he wasn’t going to let it leave. 

“Up!” He said. He shook Doll awake for the third time that hour. “Alright. More coffee for you. You need to stay up, Doll. There’s no going to sleep now, understand?”

“But why? Why can’t I sleep? Isn’t the all-night over yet?” 

“No, it’s not. Not yet. You have to be up a little bit longer.”

“But how much longer?” It pouted.

“I’ll tell you when. Now don’t ask again.” He handed Doll a mug with ‘FBI’ printed on it and hot coffee inside. “Bottoms up.” 

He went bottoms up. Aaron nodded in approval but a few hours later they were back at the same conversation. 

“Aaron! Please, please! I’m so tired! Just a nap? A little nap? For an hour?”

Aaron looked at him with cold eyes. “No. It’s for your own good. No one is sleeping tonight. ” 

“But I’m tired of Dr. Who and I don’t wanna drink any more coffee!” 

“Fine. No more TV. But I’ll make you some special coffee. You’ll like it, okay?”

Doll huffed. 

Aaron stirred together a mug full of milk and sugar and a little touch of coffee. He handed it to Doll, and after some prodding, it took a sip. That finally got it to smile- the first real smile last night when it was bouncing off the walls. 

“See? You like that. I know what you like, Doll.” 

“S’good. Really sweet.” It smiled. 

. . . 

Aaron was holding onto his own sanity by a string. Doll was holding on by a thread. It was halfway through the night and Aaron still hadn’t let it get a wink of sleep. There was just no telling whether or not Doll would wake up as someone different, and he wasn’t about to take the chance, not when _happiness_ laid in the balance. 

Doll shut the door behind it, eyeing the couch with a look of longing. They just gotten back from the gas station where Aaron bought a few bags of energy drinks and sugary snacks. He snapped open the cap of a 5-hour-energy and pushed it towards Doll, telling it to drink.

It drank it. It drank three more, too, with a bit of prodding by Aaron. Again, no room for taking chances. This time Doll got a second wind, and they got through two games of monopoly and a very tense round of poker before it was starting to feel sleepy again. Aaron was starting to feel the effects too. It’d been nearly 40 hours since either of them had slept, and if Aaron had anything to say about it, it’d be another 40 before they did. He only made it to 43 by the time his lids were drooping. It was six in the morning and the birds were chirping outside. He shook his head with force, almost feeling his brain knock around on the inside, but not quite. He shook Doll beside him. 

He hoisted Doll to its feet. It couldn’t sleep if it was standing.

Back to the kitchen. Another hot coffee, another 5-hour-energy shot. 

Red eyes. Doll’s eyes were drooping and red, looking worn down and sleep deprived, but that’s because it was, Aaron figured. He’d rather them be red and ragged then gone, complex, or blown out and glazed over. 

Doll’s eyes were perfect. The _perfect_ combination of wonder and love. A little red, but altogether flawless. 

“Come on, up. Stand up. I know you’re tired, Doll, but I need you to stay upright for me, okay?” Aaron caught it under its arm and shifted his weight so he could support Doll. 

Doll mumbled something but Aaron didn’t catch what it was. He grabbed the energy drink from the counter and tipped it up to Doll’s lips. Down the hatch. Doll sputtered and gulped. It looked at him with big red eyes pleading with him, but Aaron wasn’t ready to give up yet. 

Hours passed. It was nine in the morning. Aaron shook Doll every few seconds. Its head was slumped over, nearly touching its shoulder, and its eyes dark and sunken with a red wet tint around its pupils. 

“Eyes _open_ , Doll.” He said, more a command than anything else. Doll looked at him half-lidded. He would have been sorry if he weren’t so busy being worried and angry. He had to do something. He couldn’t give in. No more sleep. _No. more._

“Wake up!” He yelled, and this time there was vehemence in his voice. Doll yelped. Its eyes were finally open and at attention. 

“Aaron… Aaron I don’t want to do the ‘all-nighter’ anymore. Can we please go to bed? Can we cuddle? I wanna go to bed. Please?”

“No.” He said, and if he said anymore, he may have given in. Instead he brought Doll to its feet again, but its legs shook like an earthquake and it fell to the floor, slumping back and resting its head on the wall. Aaron felt like the earth was tipping to the side and he fell to the ground right after Doll. He was on his butt and looking into Doll’s eyes; they were sporting dark rings, and his hair was wild and greasy. He was a vibrating, twitchy, red-eyed mess, and Aaron gasped, retracting his arm back from where he was about to caress Doll’s cheek, as is his hand touched fire. 

“Doll…?” he asked. 

Doll didn’t look up. It was so tired. So very, very tired. 

“Doll…?”

“Pleas’ leave me ‘lone.” It replied. 

“Doll, oh God, no, Doll―” Aaron trembled beside it. He reached forward and balled his fists in Doll’s dirty three-day-old tee shirt. It jerked back, hitting its head against the wall. _Thud._ “Doll, no, please, Doll, no, no, no, no, no!” 

Doll whimpered. 

“This can’t be happening, no. _No._ NO!” He yelled, “No! This isn’t how it goes! No! I didn’t fall asleep! I’m awake! No! Doll, no!” He shook his fists, still balled up in Doll’s tee, and it flailed around like a rag-doll with his movements. 

Aaron got to his feet quickly, head a little bit dizzy. His blood pressure was probably low, he thought, he hadn't had anything but energy drink and coffee for the last two days. The room was spinning but he didn't care because he was still AWAKE. And if he was still awake that meant Doll is still Doll, not anyone or anything else. 

He grabbed a pot of lukewarm coffee and took a big gulp. Coffee trickled down his chin and he had to catch his breath after. Next, he dropped down next to Doll again and tipped the pot up to its lips. “Open up.” He told it. He didn't think he was telling it so much as screaming at it, but it seemed to do the trick. Doll opened up and let the coffee go in its mouth. It sputtered and groaned and half of it made its way onto its shirt, but it’s already dirty so it’s okay. 

“Come on, Doll, come on. Cheer up, okay? Let’s get you a bath, huh? You’ll feel better.” 

“No!” It hissed. “Leave me ‘lone.”

“Doll, you’re… you… Doll, _please._ Let me take care of you.” he pleaded. 

Doll grunted. It dug its nails into the woodwork and dragged them down in a long, course, movement. _Scratch._

“No―” Aaron said. 

It slid it feet down, then back up again. The rubber soles of its sho―

“NO.” Aaron seethed. “You weren’t wearing shoes. NO. NO!” 

―es _squeaking_ against the floor. 

“This isn’t happening! I’m― _Fuck!_ What happened?! Doll, please, stop this, stop it! Stop it RIGHT NOW!”

It didn’t.


	14. I'm so Sorry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the previous chapter Aaron was having a great time with Doll until he started getting scared that if he went to sleep, Doll would turn back into the _thing_. So he kept himself and Doll awake for three days straight until Doll started looking exhausted, and dirty, oh god, just like- just like the _thing._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!!! Note: Trigger warning for suicide attempt. Be careful reading this. Love you all! !!!!

_“Miss Mary Mack, Mack, Mack, all dressed in black, black, black. She has a knife, knife, knife, stuck in her back, back, back. She cannot breathe, breathe, breathe. She cannot cry, cry, cry. That's why she begs, begs, begs. She begs to die, die ,die...”_

_― Laurie Faria Stolarz, White Is for Magic_

### 

Aaron went into a rage; red hot and fuming. He got to his feet, shoved the kitchen table, knocked over chairs, yelled out desperate and frantic, deep and angry, then slammed his fist into the wall.  


“Fuck!”  


He looked over at Spencer, his insides bubbling up like molten lava, “Why are like this?!” he screamed at him, “Snap out of it! Just― just _stop!_ ”  


_Thud. _  
__

__“Go the fuck to sleep, then! If you’re so fucking tired, go to sleep! Okay, Doll?! Okay?! Go to sleep!” Spencer rocked back and forth on the ground. He scratched at his forearms and he may have been crying.  
_ _

__Aaron cradled his first to his chest; the skin was broken and he was bleeding. The knuckles were sore and hot and pulsing, everything inflamed and raw. He slid down against the wall under the hole he left behind, and closed his eyes for the first time in three days. His head tipped forward and he was out.  
_ _

__When he woke up, Spencer was still rocking back and forth in front of him. He was muttering something under his breath. Aaron looked down at his bloodied knuckles and forced himself up and into the kitchen to wash them off. He grabbed the bottle sitting on the counter and splashed his wound with vodka before hissing in pain. Then he took a swig for himself. Three, maybe four, possibly even five. He wasn’t keeping count. He forgot to run his knuckles under the sink.  
_ _

__“You sicken me.” He told Spencer when he walked back in the living room. “This is disgusting. You look emancipated. What’s wrong with you, huh? Why are you like this?”  
_ _

__Spencer’s shoulders slumped low. “Who even are you? I don’t know who this is.”  
_ _

__He turned his back on Spencer and stumbled onto the couch where he immersed himself in shitty television. He didn’t have anything to do. The days passed slowly. Each morning Spencer greeted him with a _Thud_ and a _Scratch_. He hated everything from the moment he opened his eyes until the second he closed them. It was torture. He wanted to go back to work if only to escape this living nightmare, but he was on _involuntary leave_. Five more days went by with the disgusting thing, and he decided that his involuntary leave was over.  
_ _

__He rolled up the Breau at five in the morning, just like the old days. His ID failed to open the doors, so he had to slide in after another agent. They invalidated his badge, really?  
_ _

__“Hotch…?” JJ said as he came down the hall. “Uh…”  
_ _

__Her face was twisted up in confusion and he saw the way her fingers twitched on her front pocket where her cellphone was. He ignored her and kept walking to his office. People were staring at him. He felt like a zoo animal. Down through the bullpen. Up to his office.  
_ _

__There was no hesitation when he opened the door. Why would there be? It was his office. But if it was his office, then why was Morgan sitting there at his desk, having a conversation with Agent Anderson?  
_ _

__“Hotch! What are you doing here?” He stood up.  
_ _

__“What do you think?” Aaron said, glancing over at Agent Anderson. “Now I’d appreciate it if you got out of my office.”  
_ _

__“Sorry, Grant, could you give me a minute?” Morgan said in a controlled voice. Agent Anderson nodded and headed for the door.  
_ _

__Hotch threw his arm out, blocking the way. “No, why don’t you stay?”  
_ _

__“Hotch, I’d rather―”  
_ _

__“I don’t care what you want, Morgan.” He spat.  
_ _

__“Listen, you two apparently have a lot to discuss―”  
_ _

__“I don’t think there’s much to discuss here. Morgan is going to get the _fuck_ out of my office, and go back to the bullpen where he belongs.”  
_ _

__Agent Anderson looked from Hotch to Morgan, his eyes wide.  
_ _

__“Calm, down, Hotch. We’re all good.”  
_ _

__“What’s going on in here?” Rossi asked from the doorway, behind him. He reached up to Aaron’s arm, and Aaron jerked it back.  
_ _

__“Don’t touch me, Rossi.” He growled.  
_ _

__Rossi put his hands up, “Woah, okay. No touching.”  
_ _

__Aaron looked back to Morgan; he was on the phone. “What are you doing? Who are you calling?”  
_ _

__“Hotch, look… I’m calling security. You’re clearly upset. And you’re not supposed to be here, remember? You’re on leave.”  
_ _

__“I took myself off leave.” He said, his voice cold. “Put down the phone.”  
_ _

__Morgan lowered his eyes and turned away from him. “It’s Agent Morgan, yeah. Okay. Fourth floor. How long? Okay. Okay, I can do that. Thanks.”  
_ _

__“Do what?”  
_ _

__“Nothing.” Morgan said. “Why don’t you have a seat? Here, take your chair.” He stepped aside, coming out from behind Aaron’ desk.  
_ _

__“Yeah, have a seat.” Rossi agreed.  
_ _

__Aaron stiffened. “No, I don’t think I want to. Where’s JJ?”  
_ _

__“JJ is busy.”  
_ _

__“On a case?” he asked.  
_ _

__Rossi ran his hand through his hair, looking at Aaron with a tired expression. “Hotch, there’s always a case. She can’t talk to you right now. Just have a seat and we’ll get this all cleared up.”  
__

__He gestured toward the chair, but Aaron turned around and exited the office. He spotted JJ’s blonde ponytail down at Emily’s desk, and walked down towards the stairs, going fast.  
_  
_ __“Hotch!” Morgan called after him. He ignored it.  
_ _

__“JJ!” He shouted. She looked up and then back at Emily, walking to the other side of the desk.  
_ _

__“JJ, where’s The latest case file? Bring me up to date.”  
_ _

__“Um, Hotch.” She said, looking down toward Prentiss. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”  
_ _

__“Why wouldn’t it be?” He snapped at her.  
_ _

__“You’re―”  
_ _

__“I swear, if you say involuntary leave―”  
_ _

__“Here it is.” Prentiss handed him a folder from her desk. Her face was blank and Hotch was relieved that someone was finally acting normal.  
_ _

__He opened it up, glancing over the details of the case. “Oh, good. Serial Arsonist.”  
_ _

__“Again?” Someone behind him said.  
_ _

__He spun around. That stocky security guard was back.  
_ _

__“Listen, don’t bother.” Hotch said. “I’m good. I’m fine. I’m back to work. I’m not bothering anyone.” He wasn’t going home, not when that thing was still there.  
_ _

__“It doesn’t work like that, Agent.”  
_ _

__Don’t give him a hard time, Hotch.” JJ said with concern lacing her voice.  
_ _

__Hotch looked back at the security guard. He wasn’t going anywhere with him. Behind him, Morgan and Rossi walked up, and everyone was staring at him again.  
_ _

__“I’m _not_ leaving! Okay? Everyone go back to work. There’s nothing to see here.”  
_ _

__“Hotch…” Morgan began.  
_ _

__“No! You shut it.” He spat. “Everyone quit staring!”  
_ _

__The security guard stepped closer. “Come with me.”  
_ _

__“No.” Hotch shot him a fiery look, but he ignored it, reaching for Hotch’s arm. “Get off me! Don’t touch me!”  
_ _

__It was getting harder to breathe. So many eyes on him. He barreled forward through Morgan and Rossi, checking Morgan’s shoulder in the process. He had to get out of there, and fast. He headed towards the west hall. Security guard was following him but everyone elses voices were getting farther away.  
_ _

__He speed walked up to the elevator and pressed the button. It blared red. The guard was almost at him. The door was counting down, 7, 6, 5, 4, ding! He slipped inside, rapid fire pressing the close button._ _

__The guard barely got his hand inside before the doors expelled him and Aaron was alone. The cold metallic wall of the elevator was cold on his back. He steadied his breathing. The elevator was spinning. He pressed 1 for the lobby and closed his eyes. Breathe in, breathe out. What was he going to do?  
_ _

__The elevator clanked down at his floor, the ding sounded up, and the doors rolled open. The guard was standing red faced on the other side.  
_ _

__“Agent!” He huffed. “Stay where you are!”  
_ _

__Aaron had nowhere to go. The guard put his hands on either side of the elevator door.  
_ _

__“I haven’t done anything―” Hotch stammered. “Move out of the way. I’ll leave, okay?”  
_ _

__“It’s too late for that.” He came closer.  
_ _

__Aaron backed up against the cold wall. The guard grabbed his arm and yanked him forward. He stumbled, and the guard caught him before he fell. “Don’t resist, you hear me? Don’t make this more difficult than it has to be.”  
_ _

__“It’s only difficult because you’re making it difficult. I would have― have just got on with the case if you didn’t insist on dragging me away.”  
_ _

__“Agent, you’re acting irrationally. Now come on, we’re going back up.” He pressed button 4 and it illuminated red. Aaron nodded silently. The door was humming, about to close. He looked up at the guard, yanked his arm free, and leapt toward the door. He scrambled out right before it closed and leaned against the wall. His heart was beating like a drum in his chest. Sweat dripped down his temple. He was burning up._ _

__The guard was yelling in the elevator, he could hear him shout at the doors closed and it started travelling up.  
_ _

__“Hotch.” Rossi came out from the stairwell. “Where’s Rich?”  
_ _

__“Who’s Rich?”  
_ _

__“The guard.” He said, frowning. “Oh, Aaron…”  
_ _

__“Dave, everyone is acting like I’m insane. You need to tell Erin I’m fine. Tell her I’m ready to come back now.”  
_ _

__“I don’t think you are.”  
_ _

__Aaron backed up. “God, you too?!”  
_ _

__“You’ve been off lately. For a while, actually. I think you need the time off. Get a clear head.”  
_ _

__“I _have_ a clear head. And I don’t need any more time. All I have is time. I can’t go home. I just can’t. Tell Erin. Tell her. You’ve got to vouch for me, Dave, how long have we known each other? Do this for me.”  
_ _

__“Have you been drinking, Aaron?”  
_ _

__“Don’t change the subject!”  
_ _

__“You’re slurring your words.”  
_ _

__“It doesn’t matter if I’ve been drinking, I’m fine. I’m perfectly fine. If you’re not going to―”  
_ _

__“Hotch!” Morgan came bustling out of the stairwell.  
_ _

__“Oh, come on.” Aaron said under his breath. “Go away, Morgan.”  
_ _

__“No, man. Look, Rich is coming. Just… you need to get it together. Be cooperative. Don’t get yourself in any more trouble.”  
_ _

__“You’re the only one causing me trouble.” He hissed.  
_ _

__Rossi stepped forward. “Aaron, lay off.”  
_ _

__“I don’t know where your problem with me came from, but we’re all here to help, Hotch.”  
_ _

__Aaron stalked up to Morgan, getting right up in his face. The elevator dinged and the guard stepped out. “You know exactly where it came from.”  
_ _

__Morgan stepped back. “No, I―”  
_ _

__Aaron yelled, stepping closer again “Stop playing dumb!” He put his weight back on his right foot, clenched his fist, and clocked Morgan hard on the jaw. “You take my job, my― Spencer, I don’t know what you did to him―”  
_ _

__“Hey!” Rich grabbed Aaron again.  
_ _

__“Aaron!” Rossi hissed, jumping forward and pulling them apart. “Stand down, Aaron. Right now.”  
_ _

__“No! He’s― he―” Aaron kicked against the guard, struggling in his grasp. His face was red, his heart hammering, his breathing hitched. “Let me go!”  
_ _

__“You’re going to the hospital.” The guard said. He moved his grip down to Aaron’s wrist.  
_ _

__“I don’t need the fucking hospital!” He shouted. “Tell them, Dave!”  
_ _

__“Aaron…”  
_ _

__“I just― I need―”  
_ _

__“Stay still!”  
_ _

__Aaron’s eyes flickered around the lobby. Morgan was talking on his cell and Rossi was back inside the stairwell again looking up and shouting to someone. Everyone was giving him a wide berth. He looked back at the guard, whose red face was set in an angry expression, a big vein popping out from his forehead. They caught eyes together and stared silently for a long, slow second. Aaron brought his knee up and slammed him hard between the legs and the guard cried out, grabbing at his crotch and doubling over. Aaron took his chance and ran for the door. He didn’t bother looking back at his useless teammates. He didn’t stop until he was at his SUV and peeled out of the parking lot. He sped down the parkway heading toward his apartment. It was the last place he wanted to be but he didn’t have anywhere else to go.  
_ _

__Spencer was curled up on the floor when he got inside and it surged up anger inside him. This disgusting form of Spencer― or Doll― had been here for the past few weeks. He knew Doll wasn’t coming back. He didn’t want to admit this thing… this thing _was_ Doll. Aaron did this to it. Aaron pumped it full of exhaustion and caffeine until it crumbled. Doll wasn’t coming back. He wasn’t going back to work. There was nowhere to go. He hated everything. The walls were closing in. Everything felt small. He felt small. So fucking small.  
_ _

__The mat tripped him as he came in through the door. In the kitchen he grabbed a handle of vodka. The TV was buzzing in the living room, casting shadows all throughout the apartment. All the lights were off. He didn’t bother turning anything on.  
_ _

__“I’m sorry…” He looked down at Spencer. Spencer didn’t look up, he just grabbed his arms tighter against himself. “I’m sorry I did this to you. I’m so fucking sorry.  
_ _

__“This is it, isn’t it?” He said. He got down to the floor next to him.  
_ _

__Spencer raked his fingers through his wild, greasy hair.  
_ _

__“You’re not going back. I broke you. I’m so fucking sorry. Doll’s not coming back, is it?”  
_ _

__“I am Doll.” Spencer said in a voice so small Aaron needed a magnifying glass to see it.  
_ _

__“I don’t… I can’t do this. I need to go to sleep. I need… I don’t know what I need. I’m so sorry. Spencer, Doll, I’m sorry. I can’t―” His cheeks were stained with tears. For the first time since his father loomed over him with the belt when he was 12 years old, Aaron cried, and he never cried, not even when they found Julie Walters dead in the back of the 18-wheeler, or when his abdomen was full of holes and bleeding out. He was stronger than that.  
_ _

__He used to be.  
_ _

__His hand was trembling as he reached into his suit pocket, pulling out a pill bottle. It rattled in his shaking grip. He twisted off the cap and poured the pills in his hand. Ambien. He was going to sleep. He counted them out and lost track after 44. Down the hatch. He washed them down with a mouth full of Vodka. “Night, Doll. M’sorry.” he slurred. His head hit the wall and the room danced around, swaying to and fro, getting darker and darker until he closed his eyes and went to sleep._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Answers soon I promise ;) Next chap is Wed
> 
> If anyone ever wants or needs help, the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline is 1-800-273-8255.


	15. Regarding Agent Hotchner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the previous chapter Aaron got sick of being around the gross thing in his house so he went back to work, punched Morgan in the face, outran a security guard, went back home and overdosed on Ambien so he didn't have to face the reality of what he did to Doll.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: **I’ve changed the timeline of canon events so things are not in the right order. Try to keep an open mind.**

_“I don't know ― maybe the world has two different kinds of people, and for one kind the world is this completely logical, rice pudding place, and for the other it's all hit-or-miss macaroni gratin.”_

_― Haruki Murakami, The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle  
_

### 

**To:** CReese@federalbureau.gov  
**Cc/Bcc:**  
**Subject:** Regarding Agent Hotchner

Mrs. Reese,

There have been several concerns regarding Agent Hotchner in the past few weeks. This does not seem to be an isolated incident. Accordingly, I’d like to take this through the proper channels. Attached are the transcribed reports from Special Agents Morgan, Jareau, and Reid.

Attachments: SADMorgan.pdf, SAJJareau.pdf, SASReid.pdf

Regards,

Erin Strauss, SES  
Behavioural Analysis Unit (BAU) Section Chief  
EStrauss@federalbureau.gov

. . . 

**Attachment:** SADMorgan.pdf

EStrauss: Good Afternoon, Agent Morgan.

DMorgan: Chief. Thanks for meeting with me.

EStrauss: Take a seat. What is this regarding?

DMorgan: It’s about Agent Hotchner.

EStrauss: Go on.

DMorgan: He’s been impared lately. I hate to say this, but he’s come in smelling of alcohol for the past few, uh, days.

EStrauss: I see.

DMorgan: I’m worried about him. I haven’t seen him like this before. He’s not himself. And I can’t sit back and watch him go into the field like that.

EStrauss: No, absolutely not. Has anyone noticed this? Can anyone corroborate your claims?

DMorgan: Yeah, JJ and I have been discussing it. She has the same concerns.

EStrauss: Thank you, Agent Morgan. I’ll look into it. Can you send up Agent Jareau?

DMorgan: Yes, M’am.  
[Stop]

. . . 

**Attachment:** SAJJareau.pdf

EStrauss: Can you tell me about what you’ve witnessed recently from Agent Hotchner?

JJareau: Yes. He’s… been having mood swings lately. He’s been drinking. At work, even, I’ve noticed on several occasions.

EStrauss: Just how much is this affecting his performance? Anything concerning we should be worried about? The last thing we want is a lawsuit on our hands.

JJareau: Well, yes. He hasn’t been one hundred percent. Nothing that would require legal action, no. But he’s not acting right. He’s going to need to get some help. This may have been a long time coming. I think I, all of use really, have missed some of the signs.

EStrauss: Okay. We will be looking into it. We’re taking these claims very seriously. Thank you, Agent.  
[Stop]

. . . 

**Attachment:** SASReid.pdf

EStrauss: This is concerning Agent Hotchner?

SReid: Yes.

EStrauss: Go ahead.

SReid: He doesn’t know I’m here. I’m not sure- actually, I’m sorry. Can you redact this?

EStrauss: Sit back down, Agent Reid.

SReid: Sorry, I have to go. I’m sorry.  
[Stop]

. . . 

**To:** EStrauss@federalbureau.gov  
 **Cc/Bcc:**  
 **Subject: Re:** Regarding Agent Hotchner

Agent Strauss,

Thank you for your reports. I will personally be looking into this case.

Christine Reese  
Human Resources (HR)  
CReese@federalbureau.gov

. . . 

**To:** CReese@federalbureau.gov  
 **Cc/Bcc:**  
 **Subject: Re: Re:** Regarding Agent Hotchner

Mrs. Reese,

Please keep me informed in any new developments. There have been several more complaints regarding Agent Hotchner’s mental state and level of impairment. Agent Jareau has informed me that Agent Hotchner has had alcohol delivered to the unit. Report attached below.

Attachment: SAJJareau2.pdf

Regards,

Erin Strauss, SES  
Behavioural Analysis Unit (BAU) Section Chief  
EStrauss@federalbureau.gov

. . . 

**Attachment:** SAJJareau2.pdf

EStrauss: What can I do for you, Agent?

JJareau: It’s about Agent Hotchner again. I- Well, I witnessed a fight between him and Agent Reid in his office. He had alcohol delivered here. A gift, that’s what Sp- Reid told me. He looks… intoxicated. When I spoke with him earlier, he was flushed and unable to focus his attention.

EStrauss: This has been the second time you’ve witnessed this behaviour?

JJareau: More than twice, as I’ve said before. It’s been an ongoing issue. What are we doing about it? Again, I think he needs help. I’m really worried about him. He’s had a rough time these past couple years, you know, with Foyett and Haley, losing custody of Jack… We should have caught this sooner.

EStrauss: What else can you tell me?

JJareau: Reid… he told me that Hotch lost time the other day. He couldn't recall the entirety of Friday. He also, Reid, is staying at Morgan’s for a while. You know, until Hotch gets some help.

EStrauss: Noted. I’ve been in contact with HR. We’re working towards a solution. Thank you, Agent, and let me know if there’s anything further.

JJareau: I will. Thank you.

[Stop]

. . . 

**To:** EStrauss@federalbureau.gov  
 **Cc/Bcc:** SBarnes@federalbureau.gov, CLopez@federalbureau.gov, KLane@federalbureau.org  
 **Subject: Re: Re: Re:** Regarding Agent Hotchner

Agent Strauss,

As you know, Supervisory Special Agent Hotchner was involved in an altercation this past friday after your email. The report of my meeting with Agent Hotchner is attached. It looks like we’re dealing with a substance abuse issue. I have Cc:ed Substance Abuse Counselor, S. Barnes, HR Coordinator, CLopez, and Clinical Psychologist, K. Lane. We’ve put Agent Hotchner on immediate and indefinite involuntary leave until he’s cleared fit for service again. We have an Alcohol Abuse program lined up with S. Barnes as well as mandatory counseling scheduled with K. Lane, MD.

Please reach out to me with any further questions or updates.

Thank you,

Christine Reese  
Human Resources (HR)  
CReese@federalbureau.gov

 **Cc:**  
Samuel Barnes  
Certified Alcoholism Counselor (CAC), Certified Substance Abuse Counselor (CSAC)  
SBarnes@federalbureau.gov

Camila Lopez  
HR Coordinator  
CLopez@federalbureau.gov

Kathleen Lane  
Clinical Psychiatrist, MD  
KLane@federalbureau.org

Attachment: AHotchner.pdf

. . . 

**Attachment: AHotchner.pdf**

CReese: Take a seat, Agent Hotchner. Do you need some time to cool off?

AHotchner: I do not.

CReese: Then take a seat.

CReese: My Name is Christine Reese. I wanted to talk to you about what transpired.

CReese: Suffice to say you won’t be heading the case in Georgia today.

AHotchner: Yes, I will. Just get through whatever you need to and I’ll brief on the jet. This can’t take more than, what, 20 minutes?

CReese: This is going to take much more than 20 minutes, I’m afraid.

AHotchner: I’m leaving.

CReese: Not quite yet.

AHotchner: My team needs me―

CReese: Your team will be just fine without you, Agent Hotchner. Your team is being briefed as we speak about the situation at hand. Agent Morgan will be taking over as interim Unit Chief.

AHotchner: No! Not Morgan. Anyone but Morgan.

CReese: Calm down, Agent.

AHotchner: I am calm!

CReese: Unfortunately, Agent Hotchner, it’s come to our attention that you’ve been intoxicated while here at work, which is unacceptable. We have a few programs in place to offer some help. We would like you to meet with Samuel Barnes, our Certified Alcohol and Substance Abuse Counselor, as well as attend mandatory sessions with our physiatrist, Dr. Lane. Agent Hotcher? Are you listening?

[Edit: AHotchner unresponsive or unwilling to engage in conversation]

CReese: Agent Hotchner, this is very important that you pay attention. After this meeting you will report to the on-site medical unit for some testing. After that, you’ll be on temporary suspension. You’ll turn in your gun and badge. This isn’t a choice. It’s called involuntary leave.

AHotchner: Involuntary leave?

CReese: It means you won’t be back for a while.

AHotchner: [unintelligible]

CReese: That’s all, Agent, thank you. We’ll be in touch with you shortly regarding the programs. Please report to Medical.

Notes: AHotchner exhibited shortness of breath, diaphoresis, and decreased attention span, possibly experiencing intoxication or anxiety attack. Will follow up with medical report upon completion.  
[Stop]

. . . 

**To:** EStrauss@federalbureau.gov  
 **Cc/Bcc:** SBarnes@federalbureau.gov, CLopez@federalbureau.gov, KLane@federalbureau.org  
 **Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re:** Regarding Agent Hotchner

Agent Strauss,

Agent Hotchner failed to report to Medical yesterday following our meeting. I have not been able to contact him. Technical Analyst Garcia reported that his cell phone has been turned off or is out of battery. I’ve sent him several emails as well. Do you have any additional means of contacting him? The psychiatrist sessions are mandatory and begin next week. If we can’t get in touch with him by then, we will have to consider other options.

Thank you,

Christine Reese  
Human Resources (HR)  
CReese@federalbureau.gov

. . . 

**To:** CReese@federalbureau.gov  
 **Cc/Bcc:** SBarnes@federalbureau.gov, CLopez@federalbureau.gov, KLane@federalbureau.org  
 **Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re:** Regarding Agent Hotchner

Mrs. Reese,

Unfortunately, we haven’t been able to get in contact with Agent Hotchner. We’ve had Agent Rossi attempt to contact him at his residence, but he was unsuccessful. Agent Reid is going to attempt to contact him today, however as I’m sure you’re aware, he as well is taking some time off following the events of the Georgia case. I will keep you up to date with any progress.

Regards,

Erin Strauss, SES  
Behavioural Analysis Unit (BAU) Section Chief  
EStrauss@federalbureau.gov

. . . 

**To:** CReese@federalbureau.gov  
 **Cc/Bcc:** SBarnes@federalbureau.gov, CLopez@federalbureau.gov, KLane@federalbureau.org  
 **Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re:** Regarding Agent Hotchner

Mrs. Reese,

Agent Reid has not been back in contact with anyone from the department. We’ve tried to have the SAC contact him, as well as each of the members of the team. I will keep you updated.

Regards,

Erin Strauss, SES  
Behavioural Analysis Unit (BAU) Section Chief  
EStrauss@federalbureau.gov  


. . . 

  
**To:** EStrauss@federalbureau.gov  
 **Cc/Bcc:** SBarnes@federalbureau.gov, CLopez@federalbureau.gov, KLane@federalbureau.org  
 **Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Flagged: Priority** Regarding Agent Hotchner

Agent Strauss,

I just received a call regarding Agent Hotchner in the building. There was a physical altercation and assault of another Agent. Situation ongoing.

Thank you,

Christine Reese  
Human Resources (HR)  
CReese@federalbureau.gov

. . . 

**To:** CReese@federalbureau.gov  
 **Cc/Bcc:** SBarnes@federalbureau.gov, CLopez@federalbureau.gov, KLane@federalbureau.org  
 **Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Flagged: Priority Re: Flagged Priority** Regarding Agent Hotchner

Mrs. Reese,

I’m aware. We’ve sent several agents from the Special Crimes Unit after Agent Hotchner. We’re trying to keep this in-house at the moment, but if a peaceful resolution can not be reached, we will be contacting the local authorities as this is now located off Quantico grounds.

Regards,

Erin Strauss, SES  
Behavioural Analysis Unit (BAU) Section Chief  
EStrauss@federalbureau.gov

. . . 

**To:** EStrauss@federalbureau.gov  
 **Cc/Bcc:** SBarnes@federalbureau.gov, CLopez@federalbureau.gov, KLane@federalbureau.org  
 **Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Flagged: Priority Flagged: Priority Flagged: Priority** Regarding Agent Hotchner

Agent Strauss,

I’ve been updated on the situation. I’m so sorry. We will be keeping a close eye on Agent Hotchner’s progress. In his employment contract he consented to release to medical records; the signed HIPPA form is in file, and his current medical records are attached. Reid has been transported to the hospital as well; we do not have access to his medical records. 

Attachment: AHMedicalRecord.pdf

Thank you,

Christine Reese  
Human Resources (HR)  
CReese@federalbureau.gov

. . . 

**Attachment:** AHMedicalRecord.pdf

 **PATIENT INFORMATION**  
Name: Aaron Hotchner  
Address: 47 Second St. APT 7 / Washington D.C. 20426  
MRN: [Redacted]  
DOB: 11/02/1971  
Gender: M  
SSN: [Redacted]  
Marital Status: Divorced  
Language: ENG

 **DIAGNOSES**  
Alcohol Abuse with Intoxication Delirium (ICD-F10.121)  
Hypokalemia (ICD-E87.6)  
Overdose, Nonbenzodiazipine (ICD-E94.3)  
Suicide Attempt (ICD-T14.91)

 **ALLERGIES**  
NKA

 **DIRECTIVE**  
N/A

 **V/S** BP 94/43 HR 54 RR 15 T 98.2 spO2 94% RA

 **PHYSICIAN NOTE**  
43 y/o Male found on floor at home by EMS called in by coworkers, presents with altered mental status which progressed to loss of consciousness, tremors, lethargy, bradycardia. EMS reported empty bottles of Ambien and Alcohol; suicide attempt suspected. Sig. Labs K 2.7, Ethanol 344, Sedative-hypnotics (+), Lactic Acid 3.2. TX 1L Bolus, KCl 40mEq IVPB, NS+Multivitamin additives IVF cont. 100ml/hr

Procedure: Gastric Lavage / pCXR placement confirmed / 550ml output

EKG: Sinus Bradycardia 54 bpm / (-)infarct

HX: Anemia, Appendectomy, Penetrating Abdominal Trauma s/p laparotomy s/p thoracotomy, HLD, Insomnia

Condition: Stable / Immediate care of pt R/T critical life threatening condition / 45 minutes spent with patient / Discussed with RN  
Plan: Admit to inpatient acute care with continuous telemetry monitoring, suicide precautions, 1:1 monitoring, psych consult  
Add’l: Patient accepted under care of Dr. Matthews 

Thank you,  
Matthews, A. MD  
Transcribed by [Redacted]

Update  
11/14 Patient conscious / visual and auditory hallucinations / 1:1 / Lab work improving  
11/15 No changes / stable  
11/16 c/o persistent headache  
11/17 withdraw s/s / CIWA 18  
11/18 No change / CIWA 16  
11/19 CIWA 10  
11/20 CIWA 7 / Discharge planning / inpatient psych / discussed with case manager

[Stop]

. . . 

**To:** CReese@federalbureau.gov  
 **Cc/Bcc:** SBarnes@federalbureau.gov, CLopez@federalbureau.gov, KLane@federalbureau.org  
 **Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Flagged: Priority Flagged: Priority Flagged: Priority Re:** Regarding Agent Hotchner

Mrs. Reese,

Thank you. Please update me as soon as you know anything else. We are all very concerned about Aaron and Spencer. 

Regards,

Erin Strauss, SES  
Behavioural Analysis Unit (BAU) Section Chief  
EStrauss@federalbureau.gov

. . . 

**To:** EStrauss@federalbureau.gov  
 **Cc/Bcc:** SBarnes@federalbureau.gov, CLopez@federalbureau.gov, KLane@federalbureau.org  
 **Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Flagged: Priority Flagged: Priority Flagged: Priority Re: Re:** Regarding Agent Hotchner

Agent Strauss,

I’ve been informed that Agent Hotchner is now agreeable to visitors, and he will be discharged to an inpatient psych facility coming Monday. Dr. K. Lane and I have been in contact with the Physician regarding treatment options following completion of this program. I’ll send you the details for the facility below. As for Dr. Reid, he's been admitted to a Rehab center, details unavailable. We will follow up in the future regarding their transitions back to the Bureau. 

West Terrenceville Behavioral Center  
24 Rt. 30 East  
Washington D.C. 024395

Thank you,

Christine Reese  
Human Resources (HR)  
CReese@federalbureau.gov

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lingo:  
> 1:1 patient is watched by a nurses assistant or security guard around the clock  
> CIWA is a scale measuring symptoms of alcohol/opioid withdrawal  
> Gastric lavage is pumping the stomach to get all dem pillz out  
> TX = treatment, HX = history, Ethanol = alcohol level basically  
> Inpatient psych is not a scary type of place, it’s where you can get help involuntary or voluntary for mental disorders, you just spend a week or a few there and get counseling and meds or whatever and then maybe outpatient programs or another facility or home or etc.
> 
> I actually have NO idea how much/little employers can access medical records. If anything, they wouldn't get that document, but idc cause I wanted to write the physician note. So take that with a grain of salt. 
> 
> If anyone ever wants or needs help, the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline is 1-800-273-8255.
> 
> PS if this wasn’t clear enough Aaron is thought to be experiencing very severe hallucinations (not exactly the most realistic but whatever) I’m leaving room for lots of interpretation, and I lowkey adore the fantasy avenue that Doll is real. There’s one more chapter, then that’s it! It’s been real, and thanks for reading this trainwreck of a fic. :D


	16. The Emergency Exit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the last chapter we got a look at the emails sent between Erin Strauss and HR. We saw Aaron's spiral and the aftermath of his suicide attempt. The hospital's records shed some light on what was going with him physically. He was going to be sent to an inpatient psych facility for therapy and treatment soon.
> 
> **This is the final chapter!

_"So when you find yourself locked onto an unpleasant train of thought, heading for the places in your past where the screaming is unbearable, remember there's always madness. Madness is the emergency exit.” -Alan Moore_

### 

There was a burning sense of disappointment when Aaron opened his eyes for the first time since stuffing his mouth full of pills and wishing not to wake up again. The second time wasn’t any better, but after a while, things started getting better, or at least back to the way that they used to be. He didn’t dread waking up, at the very least. 

A steady stream of doctors and nurses filtered in and out of his room day after day. Everything felt so far away and all too real at the same time. He caved in on himself and shut everyone out. There were no visits from the team, no visits from his family. There were no visits because he sent them all away with harrowed eyes.

A week after he was admitted, they started telling him about places he could go to get better. Programs, they said. People he could talk to, medicine he could take, and he found that he wasn’t adverse. He’d spent so long pushing everyone away and bottling up every bad feeling, that for the first time, he thought, maybe it was time to let it all go. Talking might… help. 

He was all set to be discharged out the next day when Rossi showed up at the hospital and he finally let him in.

Rossi looked across the room at him, leaning on the doorframe. There was something on his face, Aaron read, _concern,_ and what, _confusion_?

“Come on in.” Aaron said, gruff and not altogether sure he wanted him there. “I’m not going to bite your head off, Rossi, take a seat.”

“I know.” He replied. “The team misses you.” He sat down in a chair by the bed. “They send their love.”

“Right.” The same team that had him put here in the first place. “You can return the sentiment.”

“You don’t owe me any explanation, Aaron-”

“I know.”

“But I didn’t see this coming, not _this_. And I could spot just about anything.” He looked down at his shoes, italian loafers. “I’m sorry I missed it. Maybe I was just too close to see clearly.”

“Don’t blame yourself. The only person at fault here is me and- _no._ Just me.”

“It’s not your fault.” He said, conviction in his words. Aaron needed that. “I’m here if you need to talk.” Rossi pushed forward. It was an uncomfortable conversation, to say the least. 

Despite how much Aaron was warming to his colleague being there with him, dare he say _friend_ , he still felt like giving the whole thing up and tossing him right back out. He turned his head away, not meeting Rossi’s eyes. There was too much to unpack. Too much to feel. 

“Reid misses you.” Rossi whispered like a dirty secret. “He needed you.” Then, after a beat, “I guess you needed him too.” 

Aaron didn’t want to look up and read Rossi’s face. He didn't want to start unraveling everything that he wound up so tight in his mind. Reid was real, then? Reid, the one with the complex eyes and the one that had seen so much death. Reid, the one that wasn’t afraid of standing up to him and calling him on his bullshit. Reid, the one that went out with his friends and came home drunk. The one who looked at him with love in his eyes. The one who told him that he loved him on Derek’s couch and kissed him on his. 

But… Doll…? 

He shut his eyes. “Rossi?” 

“Yeah?” 

“I don’t think I can see him anymore. If that’s what we were doing. It’s too much.” 

“Really? Aaron, you love that kid. Don’t throw it all away because you’re in a dark place. You’ll get through it. Reid will be there when you do. Besides, you know, he doesn’t need to hear this right now, considering...” 

“I’ve made up my mind. I just, I _can’t_. I want it to stop. I’m _done._ ” 

“Are you sure? There’s no way he could forgive you if you left him now.”

“I have to.” 

“For the record, I think you’re making a mistake. But it’s your life. I’m not going to stop you.” Rossi sighed. 

“Can you tell him for me?”

“Aaron--”

“Rossi, please.” 

“I’m not going to end things with the kid for you.” 

“I didn’t bring anything with me when… when I was brought here.”

“There’s a hospital phone right there.” He nodded at the phone sitting by his bedside. 

“Oh. Yeah, but…”

Rossi let out another sigh; sympathy this time. Aaron looked up. Pity, too. That was fine. Fine, so long as Aaron didn't have to face Reid another time. If he did, there was no telling what he’d do. How much he would backpedal. How utterly mad he would become. Reality slipped through the cracks in the floorboards whenever Reid was involved. It didn’t matter how much he loved him, it. 

“Fine.” Rossi relented. “Only considering… your situation. It might be better coming from me anyway.” 

“I owe you one, Dave.” Aaron breathed out, relieved. Rossi was looking back at him like he was a pitiful, pitiful man. 

“You do.” He stood up from the chair, looking at the door. “I’ve got to go. I’ll see you in a few days. JJ wants to come see you, too. Everyone does.”

“She can come.” Hotch said to Rossi’s back. He’d nearly given up on Hotch’s reply and had gotten halfway out the door. He nodded and left.

. . . 

He got settled at the facility before he let anyone come by. It wasn’t all that bad. The room was alright; the window had a nice view and that fact that it was dead bolted shut didn't bother him. He did try to kill himself, so it made sense that he might try something funny. Besides, all the windows in the place were like that.  


The food wasn’t as bad as expected, either. The people weren’t up in his face nor were they assholes. They were just kind of _there_ , like him. Dealing with their own personal demons.

JJ came on Saturday right after he finished up a group counseling session, and they had an alright conversation. She was worried. He expected that much. She didn’t see it coming. He expected that too. He hid it well. Hell, he didn’t even see it coming. 

She wanted to blame herself. There was no reason for that. Aaron wasn’t sure he fully convinced her of it, but he did the best he could. Helping someone other than himself felt fulfilling, too. It gave him something to do other than ruminate on the events of the past few months, hell, the past year.

JJ left and another week went by. Life just… went on. The ache in his chest got smaller and smaller until one day he woke up and he didn’t even notice that it wasn’t there anymore. It was healing. 

The drinking was still a problem, or the memory and pull of it was, since he couldn't get a drop in a place like that. That particular feeling persisted like a freight train, plowing through all efforts to stop it. _Chug, chug, chug,_ he wanted a _drink_.

That’s what his medicine was for. And therapy. And his psychiatrist, who he never thought he would get along with as well as he did. So the cravings were okay, and expected. They had AA meetings there and he picked up his one month chip with a bashful smile. There were two other patients in the back cheering for him, two that he made hesitant friends with. 

Everything was okay. He was even happy some days, playing cards with Jeremy (he cheered in the back), or catching something on the news about a killer being put away, and knowing that he once made a difference like that. He hoped he would, again, some day in the future. 

Rossi visited again, and JJ too. Morgan stopped by but he only made it to the front doors and Aaron never found out. Garcia brought him a pyrex full of double chocolate chip cookies and he became very popular for the next two days. Prentiss stopped by. He missed everyone. 

He surprised them all by smiling. 

He said goodbye to Jeremy that weekend, they shared a room the entire time and it was Jeremy’s time to go home. He was happy for him. They exchanged a hug and some words of encouragement that went both ways, and then Aaron was by himself in his room. He hadn’t been alone since the whole thing began. 

His therapist said that he should get used to the feeling. “Being comfortable in your own skin is a necessary skill to have as a person. There won’t always be someone there. Sometimes it’s just you and your thoughts, and you can’t let them scare you away.”

“I know, I know. Conquer them.” Aaron sighed. They’d been over this before. It was one of the skills that he was struggling with. 

“It’s okay to feel lonely, and it’s okay to acknowledge that it hurts. Letting it consume you is the part that’s dangerous.”

“With Haley gone… and losing custody of Jack… all I’ve had is loneliness. Knowing it hasn't made it any better, so.” 

Dr. Korobitz smiled. "That's the first time you've said that out loud on your own." He lowered his hands to the desk, looking serious again. "You've had a lot of trauma.” 

“I have. Half the time… I don’t know… I feel like I don’t know....” 

“Don’t know what?"

Aaron look up at the ceiling. “Anything at all.” 

“It’s human to feel like that. Like you’re lost.” 

“Well, this maze is huge.” He sighed.

“I’m here to help. I can look from the top down and guide you left or right.” 

“Nice metaphor, but it’s not that simple.”

“I never said it was simple. It’s a process. Sometimes even a lifelong process. But Aaron, look how far you’ve come already.” 

Aaron made a sound of approval, but dropped his eyes down on his hands in his lap. Dr. Korobitz didn’t say anything either. Maybe he was sweating him out. 

Making him admit he was getting better? That monster. “Yeah, okay. It’s been better. A _lot_ better.” 

“And we’ll keep it going in that direction.” He smiled. 

Aaron looked up at the clock on the wall. 2:57. “Looks like we’re done for today.” 

Dr. Korobitz followed his eyes up to the clock. “Looks like we are, Aaron.” he shot a warm smile in his direction. “I’ll see you again on Wednesday.”

. . . 

Aaron spent the rest of his evening in his room. There wasn’t much to do, but the silence was nice.

A nurse came to the door while he was thinking about a case from a few years back. She poked her head in and smiled at him. “Hey, Aaron. I know it’s late, but you’re getting a new roommate.” 

“Okay, yeah.” he said, sitting up straighter in bed. 

“C’mon.” She motioned behind her, and the new roommate came through the doorway. Tall, lanky, beautiful golden hair. 

“Um, hi.” He said, his posture all but screaming anxiety. “I’m Spencer.” 

“Alright, you two. I’ll let you get acquainted. Remember, Spencer, the door stays open. That privilege comes back when the doctor clears you. Sorry, Aaron.” She shot him an apologetic look. 

Aaron ignored her, and got to his feet faster than he could take a breath. He nearly tripped on his sheets. “Aaron. I’m Aaron.” He stuck out his hand. 

“Oh. Sorry, no.” Spencer looked to the nurse, then back to Aaron. “It’s nice to meet you, but I don’t shake. Germs…” 

“Fine, that’s fine,” Aaron said, his eyes burning holes into Spencer’s face. 

He looked like an Angel. 

And if this was madness, then sanity was overrated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~Thanks for reading! To make it clear, I'm NOT implying that Aaron has been in the psych facility the whole time and is just bonkers. I am implying that there is some element of fantasy going on here, and this was my preferred ending the whole time, but I think I got side tracked last chapter with the realism of being an alcoholic. ANYWAY, hope you guys liked it, this was my first completed chapter-fic in which I had an actual plot. Love ya.~~
> 
> Under ~~threat of death~~ **my own free will** I just want to say that this last chapter was FALSE and what REALLY happened was that they lived happily ever after and adopted three cats named Chamomile, Oolong, and Herbal, and also adopted Penelope Garcia and everything was lovely and then they got married and kissed. This is the truth.


End file.
